#I will try to collect more articles about him and add them in

[miercoles-wednesday]

I will always reblog this photoshoot when it comes across my dashboard, it’s one of my favorites. But this time I have something to add:

(I took the liberty of making a new post otherwise this will just get buried in the tags.)

I recently learned this photoshoot was done by queer multi-hyphenate artist Walt Cessna.

Stop magazine was founded by Cessna in 1990. This was only the third issue.

Cessna also took these Polaroids (and I would assume the resulting studio shots? Maybe not, someone who knows more, enlighten me.)

For those of you who incessantly try to recreate Trent’s looks, apparently the famed March of the Pigs top was from The Gap (well, at least the black tshirt):

Those screen shots are from this old LiveJournal post, which also includes some other well-known photos attributed to Cessna.

According to what I read elsewhere, Trent was styled in the Stop magazine shoot by designer Stephen Sprouse, who later went on to make some collections for Louis Vuitton and Marc Jacobs shortly before his death.

There are some interesting articles about him, but this one calls him the great American designer “who never quite was.”

Also, I’ve seen them for slightly cheaper, but mint copies of Trent’s issue of Stop can sometimes be found online for several hundred dollars.

(Original Tumblr post that came across my dash here, with the full Stop spread in all its glory.)

[retireddaddyric]

The last article about him

(“You’re nobody” part VII)

Synopsis: part 7 (which is the last). The ‘hater’ journalist with whom Daniel had an affair texts him again after listening him talk about her in his interview. And a new article drops.

Warnings: 18+, minors do not interact please. Sweet love making, funny insults, fluff, Daniel Ricciardo memories (this is a real warning.)

Note: this is all fiction. English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there are any errors. This is the end of them.

It’s been three weeks, not that you’ve counted.

Not that you’ve checked his profile at night with your screen dimmed low.

Not that your heart still clenches every time you pass something Red Bull blue.

You’ve written four pieces since but none about him: execpt every single one was about him in its own silence.

And today, like a slow knife between the ribs, you hear his name again.

You’re in your apartment, half-listening to an F1 post-race interview on the TV until you hear it, not his name, yours. From someone else’s mouth.

“I mean, you’ve seen the way she used to write about you. Ruthless. Some would say downright unfair.”

Your stomach knots.

You know exactly what they’re doing: They’re talking to him about you on live broadcast.

And you should shut it off, you know for your mental health you really should.

But you don’t.

You freeze halfway to the kitchen, a coffee gone cold in your hand.

When he speaks, he is calm and collected.

“Yeah, she was hard on me,” he says. “But she was usually right.”

Silence from the host.

“I deserved most of it,” he continues. “Back then, I was cocky. Reckless. She didn’t let me off easy, and I respect that. Honestly, we need more people like her in the sport. She tells the truth, even when it makes people uncomfortable.”

The host clears his throat, trying to keep the tone light. “You don’t think she had some… personal agenda?”

A pause.

You hold your breath.

“She saw me clearer than I saw myself,” he says.

Your coffee slips from your hand, hits the floor. You don’t even flinch because he’s still talking. “And when she called me out, it pushed me. She made me better. You can say what you want about her tone or her words but her mind is sharp, and she doesn’t flinch. That’s rare.”

There’s a stunned silence on the panel. You imagine the blinking faces, the cameras the awkward host trying to pivot.

You don’t hear the rest because you don’t need to.

You sink to the floor.

Because he defended you. Not just tolerated you. Not just brushed off the question. But defended you. Softly. Firmly. Like you mattered.

Like he wasn’t ashamed anymore.

And suddenly the last night you saw him, that kiss, those trembling hands, the way he said your name like it hurt, rushes back so hard your lungs twist.

You sit there, heart hammering against your ribs, lips parted, staring at nothing.

You don’t cry but something inside you shifts.

Because you get how you had it all wrong.

You thought he left because he didn’t want more.

Bu maybe, just maybe, he was afraid of how much he did.

You grab your phone and start typing a text into his chat.

You don’t send it immediately. You draft it,delete it, draft it again.

Just a few words, that’s all, just something simple, distant, neutral.

You don’t want him to think too much.

You don’t want to think too much.

But it’s been hours since the interview aired, and the words he said, the way he said them.. still echo in your head.

“She saw me clearer than I saw myself.”

It was too soft. Too real.

So finally, in the dark of your living room, you tap the screen. Fingers still trembling, goddamn it.

[You]

Thanks for what you said today I didn’t expect it

You stare at it.

Then add, after a breath:

[You]

it meant something

Then you send it.

No emoji. No punctuation. No armor.

Just that.

You lock your phone and toss it onto the couch like it might burn your hand.

Then, five minutes later, it buzzes.

You don’t check it immediately but you feel the weight of the message like it’s sitting beside you.

When you finally open it, his reply is short. Direct. It doesn’t play games.

[Daniel]

can we talk?

about us.

Your stomach twists.

You blink at the screen.

Then another text follows.

[Daniel]

not sex

not pretending

just us. for real this time.

You stare at the words so long the screen dims.

And this time, for once, you don’t run.

You pick a quiet place, you both pretend it’s casual : it’s tucked-away café with tiny tables and too much ivy, somewhere in the hills, far from the center of the city.

Still, a camera finds you, you catch the glint of a lens just before sitting down. He notices too but neither of you mention it.

He’s already there when you arrive. Simple shirt, sleeves pushed up, backwards cap, sunglasses discarded uselessly on the table like he forgot who he is. He stands when you approach.

You raise a brow. “You’ve got manners now?”

He smiles, slow and tired. “Trying to impress the critic.”

You both sit but you don’t touch. Your knees brush under the table and neither of you pull away.

You talk about nothing at first: the weather, the ridiculous new team principal drama, who’s actually going to take the seat next year.

You sip your drink like it’s a shield while he pretends not to watch your mouth when you do.

It’s not enough.

He leans in after a beat and his voice lowers. “I meant what I said. On the interview.”

You nod. “I know.”

Silence lingers. He fidgets with the edge of his glass.

Then you say the thing that’s been bruising your throat for weeks.

“I didn’t mean half the shit I wrote.”

His head lifts.

You force yourself to keep looking at him. “I mean… I wrote it. But it wasn’t really about you. Not all of it. Not the important stuff.”

He stays quiet, eyes locked on yours, like he knows you’re not done.

You exhale.

“You weren’t just a mask. You were—are—good. Even when I hated you, I knew that.” You pause. “I just didn’t want you to be that good.” Your voice trembles slightly when you add “Because then I’d have to believe in you.”

His expression shifts, there is no smugness, no victory. Just a kind of aching relief.

He reaches across the table and takes your hand. No games this time.

You let him.

And that’s when the photographer clicks again and you both glance toward the distamt flash. He squeezes your fingers once and doesn’t let go.

“Let them take the picture,” he says quietly. “Let them know.”

Your breath catches.

And that’s how you know you’re fucked.

You leave the café together. No ducking, no hiding. His hand in yours, openly, as you walk to his car. He opens the passenger door like a gentleman, and you roll your eyes like you’re not melting.

The ride to his place is silent, but not awkward. Just heavy with something tender.

The front door closes with a soft click. You both stand there for a moment still, breathing the same air.

He looks at you like he’s searching for the part of you he’s missed every single day since you left.

Your fingers reach for his. You slide them between his knuckles without a word.

And when you look up at him, your voice is barely a whisper.

“Don’t go slow unless you mean it.”

His jaw tenses, but his thumb grazes yours.

“I mean every second of this.”

The moment he kisses you, it’s not hurried. It’s not desperate.

It’s deliberate.

His lips part over yours slowly, like he’s learning you again, or maybe memorizing you for the first time. You melt into it, hands in his hair, breath shallow. The taste of him makes your knees weak.

He walks you backward to his bedroom, lips never leaving yours, only pausing to look at you. Just look.

“You’re real,” he murmurs. “You’re here.”

The way he undresses you feels almost reverent. He peels your clothes off piece by piece, eyes never straying from your face.

When your shirt drops to the floor, he exhales like it’s a relief to see you bare again.

“God, I missed you.”

His hands skim your waist, palms splayed wide.

“Tell me you missed me too.”

You nod, your voice caught in your throat. “Every night.”

He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes.

He kisses your shoulder. Your collarbone. The space between your breasts.

When his mouth brushes your ribs, you gasp softly and he murmurs something you almost don’t catch:

“I dreamed of this. Of you.”

You reach for him, your fingers trembling as you take his cap off, undo his shirt, push it off his shoulders, run your palms across the solid warmth of his chest. He shivers.

When you’re both bare, he doesn’t touch you at first. He just looks at you. Long. Deep. Like he’s memorizing every inch.

Then he leans in and whispers against your collarbone, “You’re even more beautiful when you let yourself be soft.”

That’s when you close your eyes. Because his words hit deeper than any thrust ever could.

He picks you up and lays you gently on the bed setting himself between your legs.

His hands glide over your hips. Your thighs. He kisses down your sternum, your ribs, your stomach everywhere but where you’re desperate for him. Not because he wants to tease but because he wants all of you.

When he finally comes back up and lines himself against you, he pauses, nose brushing yours, foreheads almost touching.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You nod. Breathless. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

And when he pushes inside you, slow and deep, your breath hitches and your whole body arches to meet him.

It’s different this time. No rough grabs. No slamming hips. No trying to break each other open.

Just him fitting into you like he belongs there, like he’s always belonged there.

He moves slowly. Steady. Every roll of his hips is a promise. Every moan against your throat is a confession.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pull him closer, until there’s no space left between your bodies, until you feel every tremble in him like it’s your own.

Your legs wrap around his waist and your fingers lace with his tight, grounding, real. Neither of you lets go this time. He pushes them slowly above your head, your hands in his hands on the pillow.

He looks at you while he’s inside you. Eyes open, locked to yours.

And you look back.

Neither of you blink.

It’s not about power anymore, or control.

It’s about finally having what you both wanted all along.

LI don’t want anyone else to touch you like this,” he breathes.

Your chest cracks open. “They won’t.”

He thrusts deeper, slower, and you cry out his name into the crook of his neck. He whispers yours like it’s a vow.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says.

You don’t realize you’re crying until he kisses your cheek and tastes the salt. He doesn’t ask. He just keeps moving inside you, holding you like he’ll never let go.

And when you come, it’s quiet not a scream, not a gasp, but a soft, trembling exhale as you cling to him, fingers curling, thighs trembling, overwhelmed with how full you feel, not just your body, but your heart.

He follows seconds later, groaning against your shoulder, pressing so deep you swear you feel him in your chest. His body shudders and stills, and you hold him through it, whispering it’s okay, I’ve got you, even though he was the one holding you first.

After, he stays on top of you, just resting there. Skin to skin. Heart to heart.

And then he lifts his head, eyes glassy, lips parted.

You kiss him again. Soft. Sweet. Slow.

Neither of you says it.

But you both know.

You’re not pretending anymore.

You’re in love.

And this time, you’re going to stay.

Half an hour later, quietly, into the soft dark of his room he says: “So… are we a scandal now?”

You smile against his skin. “No,” you whisper. “We’re a headline.”

He laughs , soft and full, and you close your eyes, fingers still entwined, heart wide open.

This time, you know what to do next.

And you do it.

Your article about him goes live three days later.

——————————————-

The man behind the laps

by (Y/N)

For most of my career, I’ve written about speed.

About mistakes. About pressure and glory and the millions of eyes watching from behind the safety of a screen. I’ve written about men who win and men who crumble. I’ve written about egos. Masks. The illusions we all wear when the world demands performance.

And for years, one of my most consistent subjects was a man I thought I understood completely.

Fast. Flamboyant. Frustratingly charming. Always a smile, always a joke, always something maddeningly unserious behind the wheel.

I’ll admit this now: I thought that smile was armor.

I thought he was all show and no depth.

And I wrote like that.

Again and again.

But the thing about hindsight, the thing about actually knowing someone, is that it humbles you.

Daniel Ricciardo (yes, I’m naming him now) is not a mask.

He never was.

He is grit under pressure. He is grace in failure. He is the teammate everyone wanted beside them in war, the last-lap miracle-maker, the one who reminded the sport — and all of us — that joy is not weakness.

He made people believe again. Not just in racing. But in him. In what it looks like to lose with your chin up, and win with your arms wide open.

He didn’t leave the sport bitter. He left it better.

And while his time on the grid has passed, his presence hasn’t.

Not for the fans.

Not for the people who worked alongside him.

And not for those of us who now know him… differently.

I could list every podium. Every impossible overtake. Every champagne-fueled shoey.

But what I remember most clearly is a quiet moment: him watching a junior driver’s interview, nodding with pride, eyes soft.

That’s the man who ran lap after lap with the weight of public opinion on his back, and never let it make him cruel.

That’s the man we underestimated.

That’s the man I’ll be standing beside, wherever the road takes him next.

Because behind every driver’s helmet is a person.

And behind his, there was someone worth seeing clearly.

I only wish I had seen it sooner.

——————————————————

Daniel is halfway through his second coffee when he sees his name. Bold at the top of the page.

And right beneath it: your name.

He freezes, cup at his lips. It always hurt knowing you were about to hit him with words.

The morning sun filters in through the kitchen window. you’re still in his bed, hair a mess, your legs tangled in his sheets like you own the place now which, let’s be honest, you do.

He scrolla slowly.

At first he thinks it’s a trap. Another one of your sharp essays dressed in elegance.

But then—

“He didn’t leave the sport bitter. He left it better.”

His throat goes tight and reads it twice. Then three times.

By the time you wander in yawning, wearing his t-shirt and absolutely zero shame he’s read the whole thing.

You sees the screen in his hand and stop in your tracks. “Oh,” you say, blinking. “You read that.”

He arches a brow. “I did.”

You fold your arms, pretending to brace for a punch. “Well?”

He sets the phone down slowly, deliberately, like it’s sacred.

Then he lean back in your chair and say, deadpan:

“Bit sentimental for someone who used to call me an overrated clown.”

You smirk. “You were an overrated clown.”

“Ah. So we’re doing this.”

“Just because I love you now doesn’t mean you weren’t unbearable.”

His heart skips.

You freeze.

You both look at each other.

Silence.

He stands, slow, crossing to where you’re standing barefoot in his kitchen like you’re not shaking a little.

He stops in front of you and rests his hands on your hips. “Say it again.”

You look up at him, breath caught. “What?”

He lowers his voice: “The part where you said you love me.”

You try to play it off with a scoff. “I don’t remember saying that.”

He smirks. “Well, I heard it. And I’ve got an article now to back it up.”

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t make this worse.”

He leans in, whispering against your lips, “Make what worse?”

And just before you can threaten to knee you, he kisses you. Soft. Certain. The kind of kiss that anchors.

He pulls back barely an inch, breathing you in.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. “Even when you write mean things. Even when you steal my shirts. Even when you act like you don’t.”

You melt. Literally melt.

And then, just because you can’t help yourself, you mumble into your chest: "You’re still a clown.”

He laughs. And you can see it written on his forehead ‘God, you love this woman.’

He wraps his arms around you tighter, lifting you just enough for you to squeal.

“Yeah,” he says, kissing your neck, grinning, “but I’m your clown now.”

And for once, you don’t argue.

The End

(For all those who got here, I love you all, thanks for the love for these two, I will miss them! Feel free to reach out in the comments or in private! Muah!)

[sebsxphia]

alrighty seb, i’ve got a little thot for you! 🤭

i’m thinking about preacher rhett taking little lamb thrifting out west. the two of them find this cute little thrift shop that sells all sorts of vintage items, knickknacks, accessories, and clothes. rhett decides to spoil little lamb rotten, so he lets them go to town and pick out as much as they please :)

little lamb peruses through the racks, picking out some clothes, while rhett follows suit. eventually, their basket fills up with various articles and accessories. rhett, on the other hand, has his eye on this dainty little negligee that’s pictured below. when he thinks about little lamb wearing it, blood rushes straight to his cock, causing him to become painfully hard and aching in the middle of the isle 🥴

after little lamb is done collecting their items, rhett suggests that they go try on the clothes in one of the nearby dressing rooms. what follows next is little lamb putting on the negligee and rhett naturally not being able to control himself ;) these two go at it like rabbits, while other shopgoers are right outside the door. rhett puts a hand over little lamb’s mouth and doesn’t let up until they finish all over his cock 😵‍💫

there is definitely more i could add to this, but i wanted to send it in because, like i mentioned previously, preacher rhett and little lamb have been on my mind as of late. so with that being said, i really hope you enjoyed this, my darling! 💗 mwah! 🥰❤️

￫ warnings: heavy religious themes, sex, public sex, daddy kink and preacher!rhett abbott.

￫ authors notes: ohhhh, meghan, you know how much i love this thot 🤭 thank you for this ask and i hope you enjoy, my love! a short drabble for the ‘ptolemaea. | the verses.’ universe.

it wasn’t uncommon for preacher abbott to buy you odd little items on the road out west. he had a handful of his own money, plus a lump sum he stole from the church and some new money that he recently came into. you never knew about the recent influx of cash, because he didn’t tell you. he didn’t want to frighten his little lamb with such gory details on how it was obtained. you simply believed that he had what he had and that it would always be enough to get you by, especially on spoiled occasions like these.

“y’ want t’ try them on, little lamb?” rhett lowers his head as he asks you. you place your final item in your rickety basket, completely oblivious to the thin and lacy negligee that he had stuffed in there moments prior. “remember, it’s a discount store. you can’t return ‘em and we won’t be back.”

you admired how preacher abbott was always so right.

the dressing room was situated at the furthest point in the store and was discreetly hidden behind some bundles of clothes, that had recently been donated. you made your way in and turned back to find rhett following behind.

“rhett! you can’t!” you hushed.

he frowned in response.

“how will y’ show me? i can’t let these people see my little lamb like this.”

“it’s jus’ a couple dresses ‘nd a jacket!” you protested with another hushed tone, but he simply cocked his eyebrow at you and reached down to filter through your basket. he reached in and pulled out the thin piece. your mouth formed a silent, ‘o’ shape and you felt your cheeks flush warm. you stifled a giggle and ushered him in before anyone else would see.

he leant against the dressing room wall, with his arms folded over his broad chest. you always liked it when he stood like this. you could see how the muscles in his forearms bulged against each other. his gaze was warm, but intense, as he watched you shed your current dress and slip on a new one. his eyes followed every curve and shape of your body. his cock began to push against his trousers.

“what d’ y’ think?” you showed off the first dress and he curtly nodded.

“s’ pretty, darlin’.” he leant down towards your ear. you were already so enclosed in this small space, stuffed with the clothes around you, but he dared not speak aloud. “but, i want t’ imagine what i’ll find when i take it off.”

your breath hitched in your throat and you squeezed your fingers against your sticky palms. he was so close. this wasn’t anything new, but in such a public space, it made your heart and cunt thrum.

“close your eyes.” you whispered.

he leant back against the wall with a smug smile beginning to twitch at the corners of his lips. he gestured you to go ahead, with his eyes now shut. you slipped off the dress and slipped on the lacy negligee. the thin material was a stark contrast to the layers you were just wearing and the cool air conditioning in the thrift shop made your nipples perk up against the material.

you chewed delicately on your bottom lip as you silently admired yourself in the mirror. you sucked in a harsh breath and spoke.

“‘kay, open ‘em.”

rhett’s eyes fluttered open and his sudden intense gaze landed straight on you. your cheeks flushed hotter and you chewed on the tip of your thumb, suddenly feeling exposed.

“oh…”

his smug smile dropped and it was replaced with a look of hunger and desperation in his eyes. it was familiar to you, but you still couldn’t hold back how heavy your breathing became as he inched closer to you.

“what? d’ y’ like it, is it too—”

rhett cut you off instantaneously and took your arms in his big grasp, flipped you to where he was standing and pushed you up against the wall. the dressing room wall shook against itself and you let out a squeal. he was quick to quieten you and slapped his palm over your mouth. your eyes went wide. he tutted against the back of his hand that was pressed up against your lips. he braced his other arm over your head.

“don’t, make, a sound.” he punctuated every word. “i had t’ get ya’ to try this on as soon as i saw it, ‘nd you look like a sweet little lamb wearin’ it, darlin’. but… i cannot wait until we get back t’ the motel.”

his arm that was braced against the wall fell to your side and you felt his nimble fingers brush up the fabric. they pressed between your folds and added a firm pressure to your clit. your moan was muffled against his palm and your eyelids fluttered. they continued to work in slow and precise circles. when you cried out his name, it was another muffled scream.

“ah, ah, ah… shh…” he chuckled quietly. “wearin’ no underwear either, little lamb and christ, y’ wet.”

his fingers left you and you squirmed against his firm hold, letting out a quiet whine. his hands were quick to un-buckle his belt and un-zip his jeans. the belt buckle let out an obnoxious ‘clang!’ sound and you winced as you were reminded of your current public setting. rhett brought his hand up to his mouth and spat his saliva into his palm. he grumbled out an impatient, “fuck” as he ran his hand over his cock for a couple of strokes.

a louder whine emitted from your lips, as he pressed up against you and you felt his swollen tip push past your lips and fill you whole. un-able to let out any real sound from his palm still being firmly pressed against your mouth, you let your eyes go and roll into the back of your head. he used his thick thigh to prop you up, where your body had already succumbed to his quick and harsh thrusts.

he pushed deeply in and out of you, as preacher abbott fucked you against the dressing room wall. occasionally it would ricochet off the building wall and every time your cunt clenched around him, causing him to stutter out a groan. you heard distant voices outside of your cubicle, aimlessly discussing if they could get a discount on a damaged item. they were none the wiser to your preacher making you fall apart on his cock, in an item of clothing he had picked out in this very store, just mere meters away.

“fuck, ‘m close, little lamb.” rhett grunted out against your hot cheek. “i can feel y’ squeezin’ me s’ tight, y’ close aren’t you?” he huffed.

you nodded vigorously behind his palm and your eyes went wide to fixate on his and plead with him desperately. he could make out a muffled, “please let me come!” from behind his hand.

“if i take my hand away, y’ promise me not t’ make a fuckin’ sound?”

you nodded desperately again and he removed his palm. you gulped down a huge gasp of air, before you felt it being knocked right out of you again, as he made quick work on your swollen and ignored clit. you were almost choking on the waves of oxygen that were entering your lungs, trying to stifle down your moans and whines.

“m’ gonna come, daddy!” you squeaked.

his eyes flicked down to your breasts and watched how they bounced behind the lacy fabric, your firm nipples causing a ripple effect over the material. he sucked in a harsh breath and looked back at you.

“come. come f’ me, sweet thing.”

your hand flew up and braced yourself against the dressing room wall, as your orgasm hit you. your eyes rolled back and your other hand slapped over your gaping mouth to hold back your cries of pleasure. your head rolled against the wall and your back arched. you pressed your hips deeper into rhett’s pelvis, as you rode out each wave of pleasure that was rippling through your body. the effect caused rhett himself to follow behind and he interlinked his fingers into yours, as he too braced himself against the wall. he groaned out as quietly as he could, but his groans rumbled along the shop floor.

as your combined pleasures rolled over you, he gently helped you back down to lean against the rickety wall. as you caught your breath, his large hands splayed over your hips and pulled you in tightly to rest against his heaving chest. he let you lean on him for a moment, kissing your forehead softly.

you both shared a heavy swig of water from your bag and he cleaned you up to the best of his ability, with what he had available. of course, not without promising you a long bath and food ordered in when you got back to the motel.

you shed your negligee and placed it back in the basket, with the other items that you were purchasing. when you both looked presentable enough, you pulled back the curtain and attempted to walk towards the cashier. rhett snickered when he saw how you had a slight limp in the leg that was wrapped around his waist.

“c’ere.” he pulled you in tightly to his waist to hold you up and pressed another soft kiss to your forehead.

the elderly cashier shot you both a questionable look from behind her thin framed glasses, as you placed the items on the counter to pay.

“this is torn, y’ know that, right? no refunds once purchased.” she held up the negligee and pointed to hem, which had been torn on rhett’s belt buckle.

your cheeks flushed hot again and you wanted to hide your growing embarrassment into rhett’s side.

“that’s alright, ma’am. we’ll be gettin’ use out of it anyway.” rhett calmly spoke, with a growing smirk.

[losing-it-lately]

doing Steve's makeup

wc: 1k

steve harrington x reader fluff

Steve Harrington feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. He didn’t even think he deserved heaven after everything he did in high school and all the girls’ hearts he strung along and all the people he hurt. But now, with his head in your hands and his heart in your palms, he thinks that maybe he did really turn his life around; his mind is mostly empty, just one last question bouncing around the crevices of his brain: “how is he even here?”

If you ask anyone but Steve, the answer would be simple. Ask Eddie, and he would just explain that it’s common knowledge that metal music is a progressive scene, one where man and makeup collide. That, and that Steve melts like butter in the palm of your hand, choosing to do anything to get close to you, even rejecting his “boy-next-door” look for some black eyeliner. Ask Nancy, and she would tell you she’s been waiting for someone kind to come back to Steve and that Steve has been waiting for you to come to him. Ask Robin, and she will wind up about a messy and descriptive but warm anecdote that all starts with you bringing them to Corroded Coffin’s new gig.

The Hideout is never packed, unless it’s a Friday. The combination of loud music, non-functioning lights and Hawkin’s lack of bars and clubs resulted in an absolute haven for youth, and on top of that, Corroded Coffin had been moved from their regular Tuesday shift to the late Friday night one. Usually, the odd scent of the bar mixed with the unnecessary amount of people was enough to turn you away from Friday nights at the Hideout, but Eddie was playing; what kind of hype man would you be if you didn’t drag Robin and Steve with you?

Despite the overfilled bar, someone had still managed to catch Robin’s eye in the corner of the bar.

“Oh my god. She’s here! She’s here and I look like shit!” In classic Buckley fashion, Robin began what should have been a calm night by noticing Nancy Wheeler in the corner of the Hideout with her classic notepad and her permed bangs; a journalist in the making writing for an article in the making, a little column piece on Eddie’s “up and coming band”.

“Rob, you never look like shit,” you reassure as you begin to reach for your purse. Robin’s a smart girl, but she forgets how other people see her and can spiral. Sometimes she just needs something to ground her- “I can do your makeup if it makes you feel better?”

Robin’s lips begin to turn back up, her eyes preen with appreciation and she rasps out a kind “yes please!”

She lowers herself on a barstool. The bar was mostly dark, excusing some random working lamps above varying booths, but it was still enough for Steve to gaze at you, whilst you finished working your magic. Cleaning and then using a soft eyeliner to blend her eyes and then a mascara to draw attention to them, Robin laughs as your collection of tools softly tickles her face.

Steve’s wide eyes repeatedly glance over your face, concentration forcing you to forget about his presence. He has never wanted anything more than how he wants to wear that makeup.

Using the dark brown liner and the random mauve-y, chocolatey shade of old lipstick in your purse, you finished up adorning Robin’s face. The perfect time for Steve to interject. “i want makeup too,” he squeaks out.

Both yours and Robin's eyes zero in on him, a knowing smirk gracing Robin's face before she leaps from her chair and practically runs to Nancy.

“For the concert, I want to look metal,” he adds as a small blush begins to grow from his ears.

“Ok,” you respond with a smile. He starts shifting in his chair, trying to figure out an angle where he can be comfortably near you and you can easily start fixing up his face. As you stand in front of him and manoeuvre your hands to hold him, a gentle feeling starts to spread in his torso. You’re so close, and from this angle, you are so beautiful. His eyes gaze up at you and his hands circle around your legs, firmly grasping the backs of your thighs. His hands are soft and strong, and his touch is light and warm.

You hold his jaw with the palm of your hand; if you press enough, you can feel his heartbeat quicken under your fingers. You had never thought that Steve Harrington would be interested in makeup or metal music, and you were right; he wasn’t interested in makeup or metal music- he was interested in you.

Taking the spare black eyeliner from your bag, you begin to draw on his eyes, occasionally angling his head in a new direction. Steve feels like every time you come near him, his life goes in a new direction. You colour and smudge the eyeliner, ignoring his big brown eyes and the way that they monitor your every move. You feel like you could live in his gaze, and truth be told, he would let you.

Your fingers begin to inch up from his neck and chin to his lips, ghosting over them as both of your breathing dwindles. You can feel the air he breathes out on your finger tips, in fact, without noticing, you begin to feel it on your face as he brings you closer. His hands push you into him as his lined eyes drop down to your lips.

Steve’s eyes begin to close and he can feel your lips getting even closer, and then he hears you gasp loudly in shock. His eyes startle open and his hands are suddenly cold and wet. Somebody's beer is washed down your back, your hair and blouse drenched from behind.

Steve lips frown in a soft pout as it hits him that the moment is gone. Everything turns into white noise as he understands that you nearly kissed him: the apologies from the drunk girl who spilled it, Eddie’s music, the bartender's offer of napkins. It all fades until he watches you slip off to the bathroom, trying to fix your problem.

[jokeroutsubs]

[ENG translation] Jure Maček, Joker Out's drummer: "I don't have time for dating"

An article and interview with Jure Maček, published in Suzy magazine on 1.3.2024.

Original article is available here for Slovenske novice subscribers. Article written by Anita Krizmanić for Suzy magazine. English translation by a member of JokerOutSubs, proofread by IG GBoleyn123.

Music has accompanied the 27-year-old from Logatec since early childhood. He fell in love with it because of his father and grandfather, who were excellent musicians themselves. Besides them, he also had a number of other great teachers who introduced him to various genres, he played in the symphony orchestra and several bands, and just over three years ago, he finally found what he had been looking for – Joker Out, the band that became his new family. A pleasant and open conversation partner, who believed in his dreams and is living them today, gave us an honest interview about what his journey was like before he and his band embarked on the incredible odyssey that started last year before Eurovision.

Tours are tiring, but also incredibly exciting. // "They wouldn't let me play the drums in music school, because they weren't on the curriculum, so I decided that I would learn how to play them on my own."

"Each of us dreamed about one day finding ourselves where we are now. We're aware that many people don't have that chance. We miss home, we haven't been there very often in the past year, which we've already got used to. To each other, as well. We support each other and we know how to coexist. We're doing just fine, but there are moments when you have to grin and bear it. There aren't many of those, though, because we're mostly having a good time and we enjoy making music," a smiling Jure tells us from London, where the boys have been temporarily living and creating since the beginning of the year.

During our chat, he walks around the city and tells us that life with Bojan, Kris, Nace and Jan is very simple. "Because we're great friends, even though we could all use a moment of solitude now and then. Especially now that we're living in a small London apartment. But we know each other so well that we know what each of us is like, when and why he's in a bad mood, what he needs, and how to fix a certain situation. We're a nice and happy family," he smiles, and adds that they all know how to take a step back, but at the same time, they're firm when they want to emphasise their idea or opinion.

"Sometimes it's better if someone says what they're thinking out loud, presents their idea, and if we collectively latch onto something, we can get great results. It's the same with music," he continues.

LIVING HIS DREAMS AT PEACE

The fruits of their hard and dedicated labour over the past few weeks can already be seen, some are yet to materialise. The band recently sent 'Everybody's Waiting' out into the world, a song that centres the personal thoughts and contemplations that accompany many young people.

"When we make music, we try not to think about other worlds and the audience. When a song is being made, each of us has to feel it and add a small part of what makes him happy to it. When we get to the point where all of us are happy with our work, we know that we created something good, and that's also when people can feel it or find themselves in it," he says.

Joker Out, with their magic and meaningfulness, always take us into worlds where everyone is safe and understood, even when they think they're not. He agrees that a loving attitude towards yourself and others is key in the chaotic world that surrounds us.

"I am at peace with the people around me. I appreciate them very much and they make me even more happy to be in this world." He is grateful for fulfilling his dreams, which he never let anyone take from him as a young musician. "I currently make a living only from music, so I am living my dreams," he smiles.

After working on the album, the boys are leaving for the European tour.

DRUMMERS LIKE CONTROL

As a drummer, he keeps in the background, but that doesn't mean he lives in the band's shadow. "We're special people. We're happiest if things are under control. Just the fact that we sit all the way in the back says enough. You can see everything from there," he says, and adds that drummers are pretty technical types who are more reserved than the other band members. "We like the space we create for ourselves around the drums. That is our world and we really enjoy it. We're pretty nuts," he jokes.

We also chat about the band's fans, who are a unique phenomenon, as they know all the lyrics. "It's a crazy feeling when people abroad sing songs in Slovenian." Otherwise, he never craved attention and he's pretty introverted. "Out of everyone in the band, I'm the least enthusiastic about hanging out after gigs, not because I don't like the fans, but because I like my peace. I need time for myself after performances, which the fans very much respect and understand. After each gig, we take time to meet people, even if not all of us are there."

Despite looking thousands of girls in the eyes at gigs, his heart is currently not taken. "There's no time for dating. There was none last year, and none this year yet either," he laughs.

STEALING HIS MUM'S POTS

During our conversation, we also touch on his upbringing, and he tells me that he fell in love with music as a child, since his father Mitja and grandfather Cveto were also musicians. "I remember dancing around the living room with grandpa on Sundays, and moments when I stole my mum's pots from the kitchen, took them to the living room and banged on them with full force. All of that moved something inside me, leading me to being a musician today," he's convinced.

Another key moment happened when his father, who was also a drummer, took him to the concert of the guitarist and frontman of Dire Straits, Mark Knopfler, in Tivoli Hall as a boy. "That was probably where it first became clear to me that I really wanted this," he says. His parents enrolled him in the music school in Logatec where he studied percussion instruments for eight years, he played in a brass band and a symphony orchestra, he was a member of various bands in elementary school.

"They wouldn't let me play the drums in music school, because they weren't on the curriculum, so I decided that I would learn how to play them on my own. After that, I had a more and more successful band each year, it escalated until I joined Joker Out," he remembers his younger years, when he was getting to know various genres and enjoying his calling more and more each year.

"We drummers are special people," says Jure.

FALLING IN LOVE WITH FILMING BECAUSE OF HIS DAD

Music, however, wasn't the only thing he spent years getting to know. In high school, thanks in part to his uncle and his dad, who often took him to the field with him as a cameraman, he worked as a correspondent cameraman and editor for RTV Slovenia (Slovenian national television). "When they were looking for a cameraman at RTV Slovenia, I already knew and understood a lot of things. I kind of miss that job. It was very varied because I spent a lot of time in the field, I was at sports, cultural, and political events. During the time when I was both a cameraman and a musician, I realised that there were a lot of parallels between those worlds."

Now, he sometimes misses a slightly more regular schedule. "I used to be home at four in the afternoon, now I won't be home until May," laughs the likable drummer, who really liked working as a cameraman, but was mainly driven by his commitment to music. Now, for just over three years, he's been part of a band in which he's found something more. "I actually didn't really know how to get to that point, because in Slovenia, we often hear that you can't make a living from music and it might be better to find something else, that it's difficult to survive in the music world, that it's not worth it. But there was always something driving me so strongly that I was determined to prove to myself and others that it's possible."

THE CAMERA IS ALWAYS ON

If you want it strongly enough, you can achieve anything you want, he says. He's sure that as a musician, he will never achieve anything bigger than Joker Out. "Even though I like to emphasise that I'm living my dreams, it's not all sunshine and roses. The music world can be very tough, you have to fight every day, because you don't know what you're getting yourself into and what the result will be. Everything is a little unknown."

While the members of Joker Out are constantly discovering new unknown things in their creative world, they're definitely not unknown on the music scene. They caress our ears and souls with their finely crafted lyrics and excellent music. Their fans can now even hope that these outstanding young musicians will record a documentary about their journey in the near future. "We started recording in 2021 and we have a lot of things in stock that might interest people. With us, it's like this: when we're on tour, the camera can be on at any moment, so we have to be a little mindful of how we behave. Actually, everything is recorded – backstage, travelling, hotels, arguments, as well as lovely moments!"

The fans are thrilled by his not-at-all-reserved photos.

DREAMING OF SUMMER AND CAMPING

The magical pinnacle of the band's musical odyssey, which started even before their acclaimed Eurovision performance, happened last October in sold-out Stožice. On this colourful journey, they only had a moment to catch their breath at home before setting off again for new adventures. After a temporary move to London, the boys travelled to Helsinki on the 28th of February, where they did production rehearsals, and their European tour starts on the 1st of March. "We will board the bus which we will live on for one month. I'm looking forward to this experience and the bus tour, as it will be our longest yet," he doesn't hide his excitement. The band will come back to Slovenia for seven days at the end of March to regain their strength, then they will have a few performances in the UK, and on the 15th of April, they will lock themselves into a studio in Hamburg for a month, recording the album that was created in London.

"This year, we were home for three days, until the 4th of January, which makes the days spent in Slovenia even more precious," adds Jure, who is endlessly excited for the summer. "I've seen enough hotels in the past year, so I want a genuine holiday like in the old days, when a friend and I converted a car to be able to sleep in a camp. I miss simple holidays in nature and without a phone. That's what I really want this year, at least for a week or so," one of the most charismatic Slovenian drummers reveals his humble wish to us.

If you repost quotes from the interview, please link back to this post!

[alarrytale]

Hello Marte

I have to get something off my chest and I’ve agreed with a lot of your posts if you don’t want to post this it’s okay.

Louis, I adore him, I feel for him and what he’s been through, I can understand why he wants success (I’m not sure he really sands to be Indie I think he HAS to be indie so why not say you want to be—saves face) but I truly do not understand him any more.

This is the man who has worked so hard and who was so enjoying himself and behind himself on the Walls tour and then for FITF he put on this super het persona which and it pains me to say included being slightly inappropriate on stage, but the thing is he’s put it on so much even Larries believe he’s this alpha male. When people have no idea he has an incredible flamboyant side (because he rarely shows it only when he’s comfortable) or he even eats healthier than he says or that he does yoga (which he said he does) or is intelligent and has great taste in art and knows interior design it’s actually painful to see.

The reason is the persona isn’t him it’s not even original either, but I’m also not saying he can’t be chav but pushing it so hard? Does he want fans this much? He went from having his reputation trashed in so many ways in the band to rebuilding it and finally getting good press (granted it was surrounding mainly traditionally masculine things, F1, the Euros, Fests, the Super Bowl appearance, even the Adidas doc) and in a matter of 4 days he got the article that pushed the “yeah I only need cigarettes, beer and vodka Red Bull” narrative he’s cultivated (and we saw his rider he gets a lot more and a lot of healthy things too) and add in they also mentioned 2 bottles of Vodka were for him, he seemed disingenuous regarding his fans, his fans are only barely teenagers, he’s slight even mentioning his height and also is Chav and this was supposed to be about his clothing line (a launch for its 4th drop and the article two weeks late). Then on Monday we got the stunt pics. I knew it was coming the writing was on the wall but with a reality star turned documentary maker who every piece of dirty laundry gets aired, for “Mr Privacy” is this all supposed to make him look good? A manly man who drinks smokes and dates someone who loves the spotlight oh and according to their timeline cheated on her boyfriend with him??

It’s all disappointing to me and on top of this, it’s seeping into SoccerAid do they have to sell tickets? Yes. But really why would he want this to be surrounding a game for charity?

Now after the “buy the AOTV dvd” then “oh I signed them buy this one” “oh it’s streaming subscribe to this channel” he’s giving it away for free and you know people are going to latch onto the child part (which still looks so forced) maybe it’s to give new fans he’s collected from the 369 ridiculous articles that have come out about him and a dinner date a primer on him and they won’t look deeper. Maybe this is what he wants. Surface level fans who don’t ask questions don’t want to know more or won’t see him for who he is, we know the kind, gentle, sweet, intelligent, talented, flamboyant man but they’re seeing what he wants people to see.

Maybe we are getting a part two but will we want it? I almost fear what we will get.

It’s just distressing because it’s actually become rather sad to watch.

I don’t know if he’s trying to completely change the perception of those who knew him in the band or push it on new fans.

Yeah he’s letting life in but what kind of a life is this?

Hi, anon!

I'll post it, but i don't have much to add, because i feel like everything's already been said. You're raising questions we don’t have answers to, and it's difficult as a fan not to know if all this shit we're seeing is leading to anything good.

[jelly-of-many-ships]

COMPLETE OFMD S2 CONTENT LIST:

To anyone looking for a complete list of trailers, vids, and photos released for OFMD season 2, here ya go.

(I’m not rly active on anything other than tumblr rn so i’m sry if I missed smth)

! LINKS CONTAIN SPOILERS !

So, first of all we have the official teaser trailer, released on August 30th: TEASER LINK

On September 14th we finally got the full length trailer. I’m assuming we’ve all seen these already: TRAILER LINK

There was a promo vid containing new s2 scenes that some people were getting on their TVs and recording and uploading to twitter. What some people don’t know is that that the official OFMD facebook account recently uploaded the same promo thats actually good quality and not just recording off a tv screen. Anyways if there’s a scene you’ve been seeing but it wasn’t in the trailer or teaser, its probably here: PROMO VID LINK

Here’s the links to some of those twitter vids if you don’t know what i’m talking about: twitter vid, twitter vid, These have the same content as the facebook link, just shitty quality.

Oh also Vico Ortez (plays Jim) posts a lot of s2 things on their tiktok. Nothing with spoilers just BTS (not the k-pop band I swear to god) I guess this doesn’t count but some of it’s rly funny: Vico Ortez tiktok

PHOTOS:

The first batch of season 2 photos we got were from Vanity fair on august 24th, but those photos plus a bunch of others are now available together somewhere i’ll say in a sec. Here is the article that showed us the first look at s2: VANITY FAIR ARTICLE

So, warner bros discovery gave us an *almost* complete collection of currently released photos. This does include the vanity fair photos but most of these you can’t find anywhere else. they say which episode every photo is from and let you download them too which is pretty cool. The site also has some great articles in the media releases section but they’re not that relevant. Go to the images section to see the s2 pics: S2 PHOTO COLLECTION

The final thing I found was the exclusive photo “The Streamr” posted on twitter. In fact there’s this whole thing happening with the OFMD twitter fandom and The Streamr and apparently they’ve posted exclusive photos that aren’t in the Warner Bros collection. Once again I am not actively on twitter so I don’t really know that much. I was only able to find one exclusive image posted by them but if there are any more please let me know. THE STREAMR EXCLUSIVE PHOTO

EDIT: found another photo on twitter! YET ANOTHER EXCLUSIVE PHOTO

EDIT: There’s a S2 behind the scenes vid from the max YouTube channel and it’s got so many extra clips it’s practically a third trailer!!! Also apparently there are some more articles that just released and I’m a bit busy rn but I’ll find and add them soon behind the scenes vid

EDIT: OMG THE MAX YOUTUBE CHANNEL POSTED A SCENE FROM EPISODE 1 AND IZZYS CRYING AND THE CREW IS COMFORTING HIM ITS CANON S2E1 SCENE

that is all that I personally know of but if there is anything else you think should be included please add it or lmk, I want this to be a complete list. If anything new comes out I will try my best to add that as well.

I was pretty confused where everyone was getting all the s2 info and I couldn’t find a complete list anywhere so I decided to make my own. hope this cleared it up for anyone else🤗

[rosellerivers19]

@umbrulla The importance of noncanon shipping

I ship Ram and Bheem but the thing is I ship it as a headcanon because it is a headcanon it isn't meant to be canon kind of like Gaara and Naruto people ship them because they see ways they could've ended up together but in the end it wasn't canon.

You can disregard the canon ending from your mind and sit in your fantasies if you want thats fine I'm a sasunaru shipper I know that but the only problem I have with you @umbrulla is that you actively stated misinformation you in the beginning of my reply chain with you stated that Sita isn't Ram's fiancee which is untrue she is his fiancee/lover

Second this post you state that Rajamouli said in an interview that there's a romance/bromance between Ram and Bheem only but thats untrue again Sita is Ram's canonical lover and in an article Rajamouli states that his intrepretation of the work was that Ram and Bheem were meant to be a male FRIENDSHIP. The LGBTQ interpretations are okay I have no qualm with that but thats all they are representations Rajamouli never stated them to be a romance between only Ram and Bheem he gave those two love interests in the movie Sita and Jenny.

Since you can't see the article I will show you

Also to support the fact Rajamouli interpretted them as a male friendship Ram and Bheem in Rajamouli's head were a brotherly bond both Bheem and Ram often call eachother bhaiya or brother in the movie and there's a scene referencing Bheem to Ram's brother before he died when both his brother and Bheem eat with their left hand.

Another piece of mis information both Ram and Bheem are Heroes of the stories its not uncommon for their to be double heroes in telugu cinema RRR is a portrayal of that. People have headcanons and ship Ram and Bheem that is true but Bheem never marries Ram actually no one gets married in RRR and the closest thing is sita being Ram's lover/ fiancee that is why she is sent a letter to collect Ram's body when he is sent to be killed because she is his closest family member and fiancee this was set when they were young.

Also Bheem states Ram to be Sita's fiancee

Further more Ram confirms to Bheem that Sita is his lover/fiancee in this scene

Einthusan didn't translate it exactly but the word can also be interpretted as lover/fiancee.

*Ram nods*

Another thing Seetha and Rama are one of the most popular love stories and reincarnation stories of Lord Vishnu this Rajamouli's way of stating they are true lovers.

Ram marrying Bheem is your interpretation but can also be incorrect. In Hinduism people to get married by tying the nuptial thread around one's neck however in this case Bheem is a reference to Hanuman a sacred servant of Rama from mythology his job is to protect rama and reunite him and Sita this reference is made very openly clear in RRR. Ayyapan is a interpretation that isn't as clearly stated can be used for headcanon shipping material though. Bheem gave Ram the necklace to save him.

I don't have a problem with shipping Ram and Bheem the only thing I have a problem with is you repeatedly stating misinformation to prove that I'm wrong now this might just be that you weren't able to get a clear understanding of parts of the movie because of the language barrier or you don't remember them but I also am allowed to defend myself I hope you read this post and get a better understanding of what I was trying to say, I'm wrong in parts as well during the previous argument I accept that.

Edit: One thing I'd like to add to my response I think Rajamouli made the movie seem straight on the front because he was scared of rejection thats why he added the whole Sita being Ram's fiancee and Jenny kind of being Bheem's love interest. This is because Telugu cinema doesn't openly accept LGBTQ cinema however with the overwhelming support from Westerners about this Cinema being about Gay lovers RRR could be a turning point in Telugu cinema. Rajamouli making Ram and Bheem seem Hetero was for his OWN Protection so his cinema wouldn't flop. that doesn't mean you can't make headcanons.

[loveart14]

This just popped into my head, and I had to write it down. This little scene that I thought of is from my Slugterra story( still trying to come up with a title for it) Lia is talking with Junjie.

Lia was bored; everyone else was out doing errands, so the hideout was mostly empty, except for her and her Big bro, Junjie. With nothing else to do, Lia lies down on the couch and decides to start reading the news and seeing what’s going on in Slugterra. After scrolling for a while, she notices a new article that has popped up and clicks on it to see what it’s about. Instantly, Lia is puzzled by what she reads. She instantly gets up from the couch and goes over to the training room, and finds Jungie meditating.

Lia: " Hey, Big bro, you would not believe what I just read on the slugnet."

Junjie: " I am hoping it is something good and not another one of those... what did Eli say once, 'a crazy theory that no one will think twice about'?"

Lia: " Nope, it's about us, and people are comparing us to these two guys, named Tad and Twist."

Junjie, for a second, is shocked by this, but keeps his composure calm and collected.

Junjie: "What are they saying exactly?"

Lia is looking back at the article

Lia: " They are saying Tad is me."

Junjie is puzzled by this

Junjie: "Okay."

Lia: " Twist is you"

Junjie: " Really?"

Lia: "They're us."

Once again, Junjie is puzzled

Junjie: " I do not see it."

Lia: " I know, right. This article is getting so many views. Kinda weird if you ask me. And question, big bro, who are Tad and Twist? And are people comparing us to them?"

Junjie for a moment wanted to tell her everything about the two, but this was more of a group thing.

Junjie: “How about we wait till everyone gets back to the hideout. And we will tell you about them.”

Lia is a little confused by this. But sees this as a way to figure out what’s going on.

Lia: “ Alright big bro, I’ll wait till everyone gets back.”

Junjie sighs with relief and hopes everyone gets back in time to help him with this discovery.

Here you go guys I figured I might put something down for you guys to read and I might do more in the future. Also my story takes place after the Last Slugterra movie, so Lia( my oc) is the newest member of the Shane gang and doesn’t know yet about Tad and Twist. I might change some things in the future, but thought you guys might like to see what I’m working on.

Let me know down in the comments if you guys have any suggestions on what I should add for my story.

[art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament]

who’s excited for stats so far?? i bet none of you are but i’m inflicting them anyway! ...under a cut.

so far, though, we have 198 separate submissions across 166 works!

so far the longest submission piece is 551 words long! wow! there are also another 3 submissions that are over 300 words long, and one piece has 797 words across 7 submissions! the shortest submission, to contrast, is 5 words long! that’s also great!

there are currently 4 artists that have had 3 pieces of art each submitted, and 8 artists that have had 2 pieces. that means there’s currently 137 other artists! oh sorry, while i was drafting this post we got a fourth submission for one of the four.

how about things anyone can go look at? there are currently 7 pieces of public art that have been submitted! four of them are from canada (and 3 are from the calgary specifically), one is in the netherlands, one is in spain, and one is in new york. the fourth canadian one also has copies in spain, japan, and arkansas. there are also 3 submitted buildings! two are in spain, and one is in thailand!

gender! we’ve got 122 pieces from male artists, and 32 pieces by female artists! yes that doesn’t add up to 166, the other 12 are either multiple artists, unknown artists, or i felt like a creeper trying to trawl through their tumblr/website and it wasn’t in their bio. sadly, we don’t have any openly trans, nb, or otherwise genderqueer artists submitted (where openly is “i could find it in the same 5 second google search to determine nationalities”)

even more niche stats! the largest submission (that isn’t a building, a cave, or public art) is 2.15 m (7 ft 1 in) x 34.14 m (112.0 ft) and weighs 4 tons! close behind it is another that's approximately 3.7m x 25.2m (12ft x 72.9ft) but weighs significantly less! i did not feel like mathing which had more square footage. the smallest submission (that is, a physical piece in real life, digital art can be insanely small) is 5.9 x 6 cm (2 5/16 x 2 3/8 in.)!

how about locations? excluding the multiple copies ones, there are 32 pieces located in the united states, 9 in spain, 8 in france, 6 in canada, 5 in england, 4 in italy, 3 each in russia, australia and mexico, 2 each in the netherlands, wales, scotland, and ireland, and 1 each in israel, finland, germany, portugal, poland, japan, austria, ecuador, thailand, latvia, singapore, belgium, and argentina! i know that doesn’t add up but there’s a lot of pieces in private collections, owned by the artist, or we just couldn’t find their location, sadly.

artist nationalities get a lot more variable! i did my best to look up every artist i could and include their birth country and the country they did their works in! except john singer sargent because he just didn’t want to settle down and i didn’t want to give him like six different countries. 

starting off, we have 43 submissions by american artists! 18 by french artists, 17 by english, 8 each by canadians and italians, 6 each by russians and spaniards, 5 each by chinese, irish, and germans, 4 each by dutch, mexican and belgians, 3 by latvians, 2 each by finnish, polish, scottish, malay, serbian, and armenians, and 1 each by portuguese, japanese, austrian, ecuadorian, thai, swiss, argentine, cuban, kazhak, colombian, danish, and iranian! 

i do not currently have stats for jewish artists for you, because i forgot to write it down my first time through wiki, and now i have to go through all ~140 articles and websites again. relatedly: there are 8 works by known-to-be-gay artists, but i’m already running into wikipedia going “well he sure did a lot of male nudes but he also might have had relationships with women” and i am feeling uncomfortable poking through people’s private lives so... i hope you don’t mind it i stop... counting..... i mean if they’re open about it i’ll write it down still.

how about the ages of works? there are 4 things from before the 1400s, 3 from the 1400s, 6 from the 1500s, 3 from the 1600s, and 2 from the 1700s! 5 from 1800-1850, 4 from 1850-1880, 10 from the 1880s, and 9 from the 1890s! 9 from the 1900s (that is, 1900-1909), 5 from the 1910s, 5 from the 1920s, 4 from the 1930s, 4 from the 1940s, and 6 from the 1950s! 3 from the 60s, 4 from the 70s, 7 from the 80s, 15 from the 90s, 12 from the new oughts, 17 from the 2010s, and 13 from the 2020s! and three ongoing projects!

and to wrap things up: there are 101 paintings, 12 sculptures, 17 what i’m calling installations (they’re often mixed media or unusual media, i would give examples but i feel like i would bias submissions), 6 photographs, 2 pieces of textile art, and 21 digital arts, drawings, or comics!

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

How's it going, everyone? Did everyone else have a normal night last night? We all had a normal night. We're all doing fine.

Okay. I'm feeling slightly more coherent today, so it's time to treat this audio clip as the important piece of information it is. A new addition to the slew of research that I'd already summarized in my spreadsheet (to which I have new things to add, but annoyingly made plans to spend New Year's Eve in a collection of hot tubs with my roommate, rather than transcribing podcast quotes and translating them into HTML table code, so I'll have to do that later).

Andy Zaltzman and John Oliver claim that they have never heard of the Chocolate Milk Gang, that this term was applied to them without their knowledge. Which means that John Oliver has never read his own Wikipedia page, since it's referenced on there. But to be fair, I can entirely believe that John Oliver has never read his own Wikipedia page.

I was sort of expecting something like this, though not such a clear-cut denial. I thought the truth might be something like, the term was only used a couple of times, David O'Doherty and Russell Howard particularly liked it so they brought it up in interviews sometimes, no one else actually used it. And I've said before that I have a theory about why those are the only two people who kept using a term years later, even though it sounds like it wasn't even used much at the time. David O'Doherty, I assume, does it because he's got a heart of gold and loves his friends; and Russell Howard, I assume, does it because connection to comedians like Kitson give him some street cred after he got too much mainstream success.

So I wasn't surprised that Zaltzman and Oliver didn't immediately have strong associations with the term. But I was surprised to hear them claim that they'd never heard it before in their entire lives. Which does open the possibility that this is all a lie and the term was not really used at all, and David O'Doherty just thought it would be funny to play a prank on us in an interview.

My spreadsheet may not yet be updated with the new information, but it can still help out here with the old information:

Number of references I have found to that group, in which they directly called it some name that was related to chocolate milk or milkshakes (not counting John Oliver and Russell Howard's Wikipedia pages, as those would just be copied from elsewhere): 7

1x "Chocolate Milk Brigade": said in 2015, by David McSavage, on a podcast with a guy who sucks almost (but not quite) as much as McSavage does, claiming it was Andrew Maxwell's name for them

1x "Chocolate Milk Kids": said in 2006, by David O'Doherty, to The Irish Times

1x "Milkshake Brigade": said in 2024, by Russell Howard, to The Telegraph

4x "Chocolate Milk Gang": said in 2008, by David O'Doherty, to some magazine; said in 2007, by Russell Howard, to Jay Richardson for The List; said in 2014, by David O'Doherty, to Stuart Goldsmith, claiming Glenn Wool coined the term; and said in 2016, by Dominic Maxwell, in an article for The Times

That's 3x that it came from David O'Doherty, 2x from Russell Howard, 1x from David McSavage, and 1x from Dominic Maxwell

I mean, I haven't made it up. The sources are out there. The most interesting one to me, in this context - of trying to work out how widely it was ever used - is Dominic Maxwell. Because he probably just got the name off Wikipedia or something.

But the context in which he referenced it was a long article that went into deep and accurate detail about John Oliver's history as a comedian - far more detailed and accurate than most profiles of John Oliver. That article includes references to several times that Dominic Maxwell interviewed/spoke to/watched John Oliver before he moved to America, suggesting that this is a rare John Oliver profile that isn't just someone who dug up his backstory after he got famous in America; Maxwell knew about his British career while it was happening.

Here's the part of his 2016 article that mentions the Chocolate Milk Gang:

Sometimes [John Oliver] would pop up in shows supporting other members of what was dubbed “the Chocolate Milk Gang”: a bunch of proudly geeky comics led by Daniel Kitson and including Alun Cochrane, David O’Doherty and a young Russell Howard. Sometimes he would perform with Andy Zaltzman, the comic with whom he would later reunite for hundreds of episodes of The Bugle podcast — launched in tandem with this newspaper in 2007 — until leaving in June after struggling to keep up his commitment to Zaltzman.

I think there's a chance that Dominic Maxwell used that term because he already knew it, having heard it used by comedians, rather than just grabbing it off Wikipedia. But I may be wrong.

The most likely possibility here is it's a term that Glenn Wool and Andrew Maxwell said one time to David O'Doherty, DO'D found it funny so he repeated it to Russell Howard once, Andrew Maxwell repeated it to David McSavage while making fun of them once, and those are the only times it ever got used outside interviews. Zaltzman and Oliver's lack of recognition of the term does support that theory.

They didn't even think of Favorit, though. Apparently John Oliver was not, in fact, ordering chocolate milk in Favorit. Where does the Favorit menu fit in?

There's an obvious answer here: find David O'Doherty after I see him in Edinburgh next year and ask him. Unless anyone happens to have Glenn Wool's phone number. (I'm joking. I think my moderate breakdown last night proved that my brain absolutely cannot handle asking any comedians about this situation.)

[carnalapples]

specreqs 2024 fic recs

I was so happy to participate in this year's @spectre-requisitions-exchange, and I have a round of recs to share!!

what I received:

Going Up by Kahika, G, Ashley/Garrus

A wonderful story showing Ashley and Garrus’s developing relationship. I love how the similarities between them are pulled out, and this is just so lovely and romantic. I am such a fan of Ashley is written here, she is strong and she cares so much. I can't say enough about this gift!!

what I wrote:

follow me into the dark, M, F!Shep/Tali

“So are you,” she says. She’s trying to buy time. She does the same thing, every day. Tali doesn’t bite. “I trust him,” Shepard finally adds. They watch the water lap at the rocks, the way it has for millennia, the way it will for even more. Shaping the world wave by wave. Unless they lose. “Him,” Tali says slowly. It’s bitter in her mouth. Shepard and Tali, after Rannoch.

factors of safety, T, Tali/Adams

Tali gets crushes. On people who are suave and charming and would fit right in on the screen of a net drama. And if she's being honest, Engineer Adams is none of these things. He is human, he is older than her, and he's an engineer. Lights, camera, action.

(I love my little engineers)

some amazing fics

One Night in Nos Astra by goodnightxgoodbye, T, Kaidan/Liara

I absolutely loved the sense of nostalgia with this fic!! There is a real sense of comfort between Kaidan and Liara, and the details here are just beautiful.

The Crack in Everything by FerindenCadash, T, F!Shep/Ashley

Again, I love how Ashley is depicted as she's struggling with her faith following Shepard's return from the dead. The tone of this piece is just wonderful, and the dynamic between Shepard and Ashley is so perfect to read.

Reception by Vidra_on_the_Rocks, G, Human Refugee Teen & Turian Citadel Guard

This piece is written in the style of a magazine article, and it is so creative! The tone is perfect, and the family formed between these two is just so heartwarming.

Seeing a Salarian About a Ship by SaintMidnight, T, Kaidan/Coats

This fic has the perfect sense of domesticity for these two, starting a new life after the war and settling into things. It's such a hopeful fic, and there's an amazing "we're buying a home together" sense throughout the whole thing. Absolutely loved it!!

I'll probably have many more recs as I work through the amazing collection, but I am so excited to keep reading! And it was an absolute blast participating; can't wait for next year :)

[cuchillx]

yesterday i read that long article by Lila Shapiro about Neil Gaiman but OP turned off reblogs on it so I couldn’t really share my opinion on it, not that I have a following or anything that adds value to the conversation, but I still wanted to express myself on the subject. I won’t share explicit details but ignore this if reading about abuse in general is difficult for you.

I knew who Neil was, at one point I think I followed him but to be honest the only work by him I was familiar with was Coraline and like many I liked it but that’s about it. I was curious to see good omens but never got around watching it. I think my impression of him aligned pretty well with the facade he was trying to pull off

I saw a lot of people saying the article was horribly written and while I do agree it was very graphic (maybe more than it needed to be?) I kept reading it in spite of not planning to invest too much of my time in it (took me about an hour and a half) and not out of morbid curiosity but because for me (as a person that has english as a second language) the actions and how they connected were really clear to me and it helped me understand the severity of it all. Could it have been explained any other way and still fulfilled the same mission? Probably, but often when reading articles explaining similar topics I end up feeling a bit confused so it was a first time for me to understand so much of a situation and who was involved and how things developed. Is it written in a way that people with trauma would most likely get triggered because of how explicit it is? Yes, there should be alternatives to that article and a source that explains high level the events without being so detailed but this article is not one of them and I wouldn’t recommend reading it in general

The length of how atrocious the situation is doesn’t only include sexual abuse, its also child abuse, gaslighting, cheating, economic manipulation, homelessness, some parts include mention of blood, piss, shit and vomit (that last bit was uncomfortable to me as I have emetophobia but reading about it doesn’t make me tense enough to not continue reading), scientology stuff, and many more difficult subjects so echoing what many are saying, you don’t have to read all of it or any of it all to condemn Neil Gaiman. Even if you were his fan. Its a lot and you dont need to punish yourself by putting yourself through that. You dont need to punish yourself at all, we collectively didn’t know these things about him and it makes sense so many people connected with his stories at one point. Its ok to keep a high level understanding of his actions and not a in-depth one to decide that what he did was not ok. Take care of yourself. You don’t need the details to decide that what he did was awful.

I do hope Neil doesn’t ever have access to someone that he could abuse, I don’t know if he’s capable of true change but it’s not on me to decide that, I just hope that while it doesn’t happen, no more people go trough his horrible ways and I hope the victims of his abuse can find peace, retribution for the damage and a support net (it seems like at least the last one is a reality). Unfortunately there’s still a child involved so currently that wish we all have is still not secured and I really wish that kid eventually is somewhere safe and receives help and support as damage has already been done and what’s scary to think is that possibly more beyond what has already came out into light.

Mind boggling some people still defend that man.

Through his fiction he led on the idea he was somehow either the hero or the victim of his stories. Having the full picture it’s clear he was the hero for many because of his work for a long time, he also was the victim for a long time in his bringing up, but ultimately made the choice to be the abuser so he’s been all 3 at some point but no matter how much he could’ve been the hero and how much of a victim he was, it will never justify that he chose to be the abuser he so much portrayed in his work so he was fully aware of the magnitude of what he did (and most likely, unfortunately, still does)

[tako-cafe]

Idia ED HCs

as the title implies this is covering eating disorders so be cautious if sensitive to this. reader beware type deal, also game spoilers

ok Ive done this before actually but it was vague and I offered zero proof so I’m doing this correctly now. I covered Azul in that old post too and his own post will be coming soon as well. Lets get into Idia now.

To start: how this will be done and his ED I think he has. For card and homescreen lines I’m just going to quote them as I don’t want this bogged down with too many screenshots but I will show as many event and main game ones as I can instead for those.

Now what do I think he has? ARFID but specifically the Lack of Interest variant. For reference this is described by the Eating Recovery Center as showing little or zero interest in food. Which can cause forgetting to eat, low appetite or distracted at eating time, or even extreme “picky eating” which limits what you eat or how much.(note I am also pairing this with a linked dx hc of autism for him link to a short article about this)

Now with this specific HC it more so was picked because he isn’t aiming for a weight goal or focusing on a specific idea (ie clean eating for example) but his foods he will touch are safe + him admitting he forgets to eat. As self admitted in the cooking event.

He seems very sensory on what he picks. In his Student intro sheet he hates raw fish but loves candy. Which is then backed up with his dorm uniform line, “Oh hey, want a gummy worm? …I just love brightly- colored candy.” A Birthday Boy line, “When I was out shopping, Sam said he’d throw in a little extra for my birthday. H-he gave me free candy! What a top-tier guy.” Chef card talking about sensory issues, “Ugh,that slimy feeling when ground meat squelches between your fingers gives me the creeps!”

A line talking about the meat feeling again messing with his sensory issues.

As far as safe foods other than candy while he is picky on fruit he will eat it. In the Applepom event card he mentions buying dried fruit, “TA-DA! Here’s the dried fruit I bought at Kokko Market! I figured it’d be the perfect snack.” In the same event in chapter 2-2 he also states, “I only eat fruit if it’s canned or already sliced and peeled. But peeling this thing myself sounds like a chore…”

There is also his birthday interview about food,

“Thank you. So, what’s your favorite food? ” Idia , “…Snacks. They taste good, and are easy to eat while you’re gaming. Can you name a better combo? If I had to be more specific, I’d go with DIY candy kits, where you make candy sushi and such by mixing water into powder packets. It turns snacktime into a game! It’s easy to get totally absorbed, too. Whee hee hee. There’s something genuinely engaging about being able to change the shape and color yourself. It’s definitely not just for kids, okay?” I love this as a lore he stated because it fits into the idea of finding a way to introduce a food he would try: turn it into a game

Further sensory mentions with him hating raw fish in birthday boy, “Raw fish. It stinks, it’s lukewarm, it’s all slimy and clingy and sticky…”

In the same line from that card he actually talks further about how he feels about eating, “And who’s got time for food you need proper tableware to eat? That’s just a ton of pointless busywork for one lousy meal. Who cares how you get nutrients, as long as you get them? Just eat an energy bar with vitamins and minerals! Bam, EZ.”

This isn’t the only time he talks about wanting an easy way out of eating. In the chef card he described cooking as inefficient and mentions meal replacements. He did however seem open to at least try things if he could build basically a slowcooker that prepped the food along with cooking it.

As one more safe food- ramen seems to be okay. A chef card homescreen line states, “Weird. I was meant to be buying ingredients, but next thing you know I’ve got a new type of instant noodles in my hand. Guess I’ll add it to the collection.”

As a conclusion, I don’t think Idia would see this as a disorder. While his family is stated by him to be concerned including Ortho-

We can see his family has concerns that he knows of but I do not think he sees it as a literal disorder. He is in online gaming circles and really limited diets aren’t uncommon in them so they could also be normalized in his eyes. Along with being so isolated his whole life it isn’t far fetched to think he saw this as normal for a while as is. But I do also think he doesn’t want to be like this. He did, even if just for the credits, join the class and did try his best. He looked upset about Ortho being worried. He is one I don’t think he’ll eat everything under the sun even with the top of the line doctors. But I do think he will eventually work through and with accommodating himself find a few things he can handle and maybe even semi-enjoy.

ending notes: if i missed anything he said lemme know so i can edit/add. hopefully I made sense though thanks for reading my silly thing + reposted from my old account so I can link these HCs together I’m making

[deadweight-at7am]

I really love some of these videos and responses I keep seeing from people online (mainly Tiktok) who are trying to explain away "what happened" in this election result. They keep saying "Trump spoke to the working class better than Democrats". And I keep saying "literally, HOW?" You keep saying that, and what I think you're trying to say is that the working class is full of stupid fucking morons. I am working class. I don't agree.

He didn't speak to me at all. He said nothing of substance. He espoused violent and hateful rhetoric. He gave us no concrete economic plans except for ones that clearly aren't going to be good. He incited a insurrection and refused to accept defeat in 2020. He stole secret documents from the White House. He wants to do things that will add to the debt. He "explained their concerns better" is so useless. If he LIES, what point is there in saying he spoke to them "better". We all know he won't do any of the shit he promised. And define "better", for the love of GOD.

What they're all failing to admit here is that the voter is to blame. The people who voted for him are squarely to blame. No amount of trying, explaining, writing articles, making pie charts, yelling, screeching, etc would have worked. How do I know that? Because, DUMMY, if you need someone to hold your hand and say in a baby voice "PLEASE DON'T VOTE FOR THE RAPIST AND FELON" you are a lost fucking cause. I didn't need anyone to hold MY hand and say that. So, why are you excusing the millions of people who apparently do? It's OUR collective fault they have IQs of 70? You need someone to explain to you in the simplest terms possible that the big orange man who paid off a porn star and lied about it is NOT going to follow through on his promises?

No. You're. At. Fault. And. I'm. Not. Taking. Responsibility.

"They voted for him because of the economy". So what you're saying is that the economy, which sucks because of corporate greed (amongst other things) is going to be changed for the better by the guy who has concepts of a plan. RIGHT. We all watched the same fucking debate. We watched him have zero answers.

Yeah, yeah, totally. That makes sense.

Edited to add: I'm currently in a FB argument with some random chud who is trying to tell me that Trump is not a fascist and that progressives more closely aligns with fascism... he's citing Mussolini (the literal fascist superhero) as examples. Like, no you literal fucking moron, Mussolini wasn't a socialist when he rose to power. OBVIOUSLY. He was a fascists and he formed the fascist party. Fascism and socialism is not the same thing. He keeps arguing with me that I don't know what fascism is and he's just actually wrong. So, I had to screenshot Wikipedia for him. This is his voter base. No ability to go and read for themselves. NONE.

[douglas-rain]

Douglas Rain: All the Information

A collection of pages and articles about the late Shakespearean actor Douglas Rain's life and career. Some of these aren't exclusively about him, but feature quotes/tidbits. If you find any more good stuff, send it to me and I'll add it to the list!

Note: I strongly advise against using posts from the online blog "2010 Odyssey Two Archive" for information about DR, since they do not cite any sources and frequently include material from other articles in their Douglas Rain-centric posts without credit (and then go on to claim those articles plagiarised them instead of the other way around). We've all seen hbomberguy's video; don't do that.

-

Record in the Stratford Festival Archives' Person / Institution Register (biography, list of Festival roles. In addition, the archives have a database of photos, production credits of all the different plays the Festival has done, and items such as costume pieces. From what I've read, they also hold videos of performances and interviews with various cast members, but I'm reasonably sure those can only be accessed in-person) [Note: The link currently leads to an archived version of the page in question via the Wayback Machine, since the Archives' online catalogue is unavailable due to security issues!]

IMDB page (most complete list of film and TV credits; contains some errors though)

Canadian Theatre Encyclopedia entry (short biography)

Canadian Encyclopedia article (short biography)

NFB article by Albert Ohayon about "The Stratford Adventure", 31 August 2009 (DR isn't actually mentioned in the article, but they do note the thing about Alec Guinness' contract stuff that didn't allow rehearsals to be filmed with him performing - which is the reason why DR plays Richard III in the rehearsal scene in the documentary!)

NYT article by Gerry Flahive, 30 March 2018 (specifically about the creation process of HAL 9000 and why it's iconic)

NYT article by Ian Austen, 6 April 2018 (companion piece to the above article, featuring an interview with Gerry Flahive)

The Times article by Gerry Flahive, 25 April 2018 (about the HAL 9000 role and DR's ambivalence towards it, plus some stuff about his theatre work)

POV Magazine article by Gerry Flahive, 10 May 2018 (detailed look at HAL 9000, creation process and lasting impact, DR's life and career both before and after Space Odyssey)

NFB article by Gerry Flahive about "Universe", 10 December 2020 (about the creation process and impact of the documentary, with some focus on DR's voice-over narration)

Wordpress article by K. W. Rushing (me), 19 January 2024 (me desperately trying to figure out what DR's real date of birth is because there are multiple ones floating around the internet)

Various obituaries and articles about his death:

The Guardian

The Times

The New York Times

National Post

Independent

The Globe and Mail

Washington Post

Kitchener

Wral News

BroadwayWorld