#so the photos are gonna follow in that chronological order

[rabbitinthemeadow]

Alas, the cradle of my heart waits elsewhere || One

[oonajaeadira]

Patricio Keeps a Journal, Pt. 1: Winter

Good. Things. Take. Time. is a series that grew out of prompts–the whisper of a character, the asks of readers. And now, to get myself back into PATS’s head, the prompts are coming from @fanfticionoverload’s Seasons of Life challenge.

What you’re about to read are some excerpts from Patricio’s journal. Heads up they probably won't make much sense if you haven't read the ongoing series.

Each excerpt is just that–snippets that pertain to the story, taken from his presumed wider journal, each notated where it lands in the series and follows the chronology of the series.

The rules of the challenge ask for 250 words per prompt. I thought it would be a little less forced if I didn’t worry so much about that, so some may fall short of that number. And I’ll say that these aren’t heavily edited nor are they anything other than basic reactions, precisely because I wanted them to feel like the unfiltered thoughts one writes in a journal.

Let’s say that it was Shell’s orders for him to keep a journal in the first place. If his practice is his way of dealing with his demons, if he’s not going to go to traditional therapy, then “the least you can do is just offload before bed, and not the kind of offloading you do with your dick. I’m not gonna read it, but I’ll want to see words on those pages. Write a fucking play for all I care, write a manifesto about your love of pasta, I don’t give a shit what. Just write.”

I don’t have anything to write. I’m not a fucking poet. Shell says use the pen, get the words out of your head, just write anything. Anything. Anything. Tables have turned. Now I’m the one practicing letting it all out. Trying not to think too hard.  Anything.

EXCERPT 1: SNOW

TIMELINE: a few days before Good. Things. Take. Time.

…

#39 gifted me four tickets to the game at her last session. It’s Neils’ birthday. I’ll surprise him and Dan with a guy’s night out.

Got a new client coming in on Thursday. #48. I wasn’t going to approve her. Nothing in her application hints at any lingering trauma that she can’t just get treated at a legit clinic. But Shell was pushy about this one. She's got a knack for these things and hasn’t been wrong yet. Official referral diagnosis: pain is psychological tension from a recent(?) divorce. I guess it’s worth a shot. If nothing else, divorcees are usually just in need of a good fuck so it’s an easy fix. Good photo. I like her style. She’s going to make pretty faces.

Thinking about taking some time off after that. Rare confluence of three clients ending their run at the same time, it’s slow season at the office and the guys can handle a week without me, I should get out of town. Someplace quiet. Or fuck, I don’t know, someplace distracting where I can get out of my head. Maybe I should book a massage. Look at me, I’m hilarious. Who massages the masseuse? I’ll have Shell find me something. Keep it interesting. Place yer bets: seedy and cheap or golden toilets and happy endings? As long as it’s somewhere warm.

Renee posted the pictures from her honeymoon. Skiing in the Alps. She always used to hate the snow. Guess people change. Change can be a good thing. 

She’s better off. 

___

EXCERPT 2: SCARF

TIMELINE: The night of Good. Things. Take. Time.

…

Shell hit the jackpot on this one. Perfect plaything. She’s like I custom ordered a client. Recurring cluster knots all down her starboard teres major, needs a hand getting in under the port shoulder blade…can’t do it alone. Needs my hands. She needs me. Follows directions, trusts completely. Has a good imagination. That will open up more in time. I expect a challenge out of this one. Surprised the shit out of me with the beautiful thing though. Maybe shouldn’t have let her have that. Maybe shouldn’t have gone down on her. It’s fine. She’s clean. Tastes good smells good ass for days. I can get a good handful. Everywhere.

And perfect inside. Tight but not too tight, good control with the right assistance, takes direction like a dream. I’ll be able to get her to sing if she keeps listening. Mierda, her skin. My hands want to eat it. Oil it up and map it out and scarf it down. Her muscle structure is    -just-    amazing. I haven’t been this amped in months. This one hits the spot.

Giving her Thursday across the board might have come off too eager. Well, if that didn’t, offering up extra days on call probably did. Jackass.

Not gonna worry about that tonight. Bowling with the guys tomorrow night. Hope they’re ready to eat their damn balls. I’m fucking invincible.

She called me beautiful. She’s [sentence scratched out] 

Forgot to note in her file–she said she hasn’t had anyone make her come in over a year even though info says she’s only been divorced a few months. What kind of an asshole just walks away from that her? How could anyone share a bed or a house or anything with that and resist for a year? She deserves to get fucked every day. Why wouldn’t you want someone that just falls into you so willingly and fucks so pretty? Great. Now I’m angry. Not my concern. Just my gain.

___

EXCERPT 3: COZY 

TIMELINE: weekend evening, after installment #2, relieving period cramps

…

Keep thinking about Thursday. It’s not about the blood. It is and it isn’t. It’s obviously that she needed relief. It’s good to see her trusting. That can be tricky for some women. Beaten into them that they have to hide what their body does. It’s a body. It’s a unique mechanism. It has shit and blood and needs a good release now and then. Or every day for some people...another truth for some of us that the world wants hidden away.

The blood’s messy. It’s primal. It’s brutal and nobody blinks an eye if it comes from a punch to the face or a slice of the thumb. But the minute it comes from the minute it shows you what  a woman’s body is capable of… But it’s also the harshness of the color, a signal that if there’s pain then it’s real. It’s a helpful focus.

She just LETS me. There's beauty in that pliability. She trusts, she follows, she heals. The way her face just relaxes when the knots are gone. It’s almost as good as the orgasm itself. Beautiful.

Got her all warmed up in the bath, all cozy in bed. Fell asleep like a worn-out kitten and I had an urge to kiss her forehead. Poor thing just needed it today. Successful session.

___

EXCERPT 4: FIREPLACE 

TIMELINE: a couple of weeks later, evening, after installment #3, the treatment for migraine and anxiety AND includes this six sentence ficlet

…

Well shit. There’s a coincidence. She wouldn’t believe me if I told her.

Thursday came in tonight tight as a screw, migraine a good 7 or 8. I had to take it slow. Asked her to focus on some bright spots in her life, like her favorite things. I might have guessed the animals and reading, but the fanfiction was a surprise. Cute. It was best not to talk about what was causing the stress because

Her family coming to stay.

Fuck if I don’t sympathize. 

Mama got here two days ago and all she can do is complain about her hotel and American food and how everyone speaks too fast for her to keep up. It’s cold here. The hotel should have a fireplace. Why don’t you take time off Patricio? You have an extra bedroom, why can’t your mama sleep there?

I love her. But I get it. There are just some boundaries that are hard. I get you, Thursday.

Preciosa.

Fucked her five ways til Sunday. She fucked ME five ways till Sunday.. She drew blood. Didn’t even care. Mark me up, girl. Glad I could help, but damn that might have been more mutually beneficial than I’d originally planned.

___

EXCERPT 5: HOT CHOCOLATE 

TIMELINE: night of installment #4, with the undergarment ripping and the thigh-highs

…

I didn’t expect to get to play this much. I’m usually so focused on the pain and making sure the client can come in their condition that there’s not a lot of room for fun and surprises. I got to take Shell out last weekend and might have bought her too many beers and pull-tabs. It took her about three bottles to get profound. She wants to know who "therapies the therapist" and told me I should remember that it’s okay to put my own priorities first sometime. She said that people in the industry of care need to be taken care of too. She said it’s okay to have a client that gives as good as she gets. Then she went home and threw up and texted me the next day that she’s drinking nothing but hot chocolate from now on. Haha

Shit. Thursday feels good when she walks out of here. She looks like a million bucks. I did that. I DO that. THAT’s what I need. So yeah. Why shouldn’t I enjoy that? Cute tonight. She wanted me to rip her panties. All she had to do was ask, but I think she was embarrassed to?

So the new diagnosis is lack of confidence and the treatment is for her to speak up for what she wants. We’re going to get her to a place where she can ask���or demand what she needs. We’ll work on her trusting that I’ll give her anything she wants–anything. 

She’ll be able to walk out of here and conquer the world when I’m done with her.

___

EXCERPT 6: FREEZING 

TIMELINE: a couple of weeks after the previous entry

...

[….] and Niels can go to hell though because I don’t care how low key it is or how good the whiskey is, I’m not giving up my Thursdays to fill in the hole in his poker night. His basement is freezing and I have warmer places to be.

Although speaking of, Thursday canceled again. It’s been a couple of weeks. Crunch time at work for her I guess. Her portal messages seem pretty stressed. She’s apologetic about missing sessions. I can tell her she doesn’t need to apologize, I’m getting paid whether she shows or not. And honestly, it just means we’re going to have to work that much harder to get her malleable again and I can hardly complain about that. A build up’s a hell of a thing. As long as she doesn’t mess up her rhombs again. We were just making headway on that. I should ask her about her desk chair.

But I’d be lying if I said that I gave a shit about the pay. I’m allowed to enjoy my clients and be disappointed when I don’t get to see them.

At least Jean’s back on Friday. It will be nice to see her again. Now that her latest surgery’s all healed up, we can find her some good positions for her to take home. I know her partner’s skittish about the discovery phase. But she’s almost done and when the reconstruction’s over, he’ll thank me for it. He SHOULD thank me for it, she’s got a good laugh and good tits.

Jean’s a perfect example of learning to speak up for herself. I can do the same for Preciosa. Lucky for her she doesn’t have Jean’s level of pain to work through. But she’s gotta show. up. for. it. Come on, girl. I got you.

___

EXCERPT 7: MARSHMALLOW

TIMELINE: directly after installment #5, all pent up and feral

…

Now THAT. Was a successful fuck. We’re making headway here. Little slapping, little biting, she got a good few hair yanks in there. She’s learning that not only am I not a marshmallow…neither is she. Good girl. Pretty high praise response, but she’s also got a little fight in her. She’s a switch and doesn’t even know it. She will. 

There were some real emotions tonight, real anger, real tears. But when she let go I nearly wept myself. It was beautiful. She’s working too hard and she knows it. But she also knows I’ve got her when she does. Hopefully that will preempt some of the stress next time. Not even upset about that shoulder blade. We’ll just start from the beginning on that.

[....]

Just reminded me of Renee nagging about working too hard. I just remembered that I had a dream about her a few nights ago. Not really about her. She was in the background somewhere and not even angry that I didn’t stop to say hello. Then she picked up her purse and left. The light kind of shifted like, I don’t know. Felt like it was the last time I’d see her. Not in a bad way. 

It’s good. Like a door really closing.

Maybe I do work too hard. But I like it. It’s who I am. It’s my choice.

____

PATS in winter by @d4rm4nd4

SERIES MASTERLIST

[gashface]

When things are bad, it's good to remember the happiest days.

Hey guys,

Welcome to the final week!~ This prompt we wanted to challenge our contestants by requesting 3 photos, all separate days and just overall learn that last bit about them all. Before we get to the results, as this is the final week;

I will also be including the final results for the competition in a post following this one <3

Now onto the results!

Charline Morel by @cyazurai

“What are the three happiest days of my life? Oh, wow… what a question. You know when you get asked these kinds of these suddenly you can’t remember a single happy day? It’s the pressure, haha. I promise I have had happy days. Oh wait, actually, I know the first one! It was the day I told my parents to- well. I told them I wasn’t going to listen to them anymore and I was going to live my own life. They were trying to get me to apply to Juilliard or something, and I had no desire to go, you know? I don’t even know if they take singers, I never cared enough to check. Anyway, they were telling me I needed to stop beating around the bush and get to filling out my applications, and I’d had enough. I just lost it, and told them where they could go. I’d been saving up money to get out of that abusive household, and I just up and left that day. It was the most freeing, best feeling I’ve ever had. Sure, later I regretted doing it so suddenly because I left my sister behind, and I didn’t have anywhere to go for a while, but I didn’t regret actually leaving.”

“My second happiest day has to be the day I got my first tattoo. I was still just living off of the money I’d been saving from the allowance my parents gave me - rich kid privilege - and while I was looking for a job, I decided, you know, I wanted to do something more to stick it to my parents. In case I ended up giving in and going back to them on my hands and knees, at least I’d have something physical on my person that would rebel against their obsession with appearances. Though it did hurt and I felt, uh, a little faint. I don’t like needles, never have - but the artist was really nice and helped me get through my initial queasiness. I dated him a little bit after that, too, but it didn’t work out. Oh well.”

“And, well… my most recent favorite day was the day I got my first modeling gig. It was nothing big, it was just for a small internet store that was trying to get off the ground. Since they couldn’t afford anyone with experience, they gave me a chance, and I decided that being in front of the camera is one of the best feelings. It’s kind of freeing - I could be whatever, whoever I wanted to be. Maybe I’m just really narcissistic and like modeling because I know I’m pretty, but I like to think it’s just because I can really express myself this way. And I’ve never really been able to do that before.”

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 10/10

STORY: 10/10

EXECUTION: 9/10

STYLE: 9/10

Dillion Carter by @mewo-ita

Can’t believe it’s really the end… personally, think the theme is real fittin’. For this one, figured I won’t bore you with the things you already know bring me happiness and I’d tell some new things bout’ myself. I’m gonna make this easier by goin’ in chronological order. One of my first happiest days was when I was just a teen— fifteen, specifically. My family had to go on a trip to Japan for work and at first, I hated it. But then I met this boy a year older than me, Suzuya. We were pretty close by the end of the trip and I figure that’s why he asked me to go to the summer festival with him. Who would I be if I said no? Even if Japan is still not my favorite place, it looked just gorgeous then; the yukatas, festivities, and the bright stalls. Suzuya laughing and grinnin’ at me when he picked me up to watch the fireworks. We still kept in contact, but even if I am not able to see him and Japan personally again— the pure joy I felt that night I’ll always remember.

For the last happiest day, I would say it was during my first ever job. I was a young nineteen and lifeguard of this one beach— it was honestly perfect since I’ve always loved to swim. It wasn’t a very serious job and I was free to wear whatever as long as I wasn’t nude and I had the colors red and white. So I wore my favorite shirt whenever I went to always get these girls that kept going out really deep in the ocean despite me saying NOT to go. Sigh, anyways, wouldn’t trade that first day for the world. Had the time of my life.

I was an absolute mess in junior year of high-school. So naturally I took up a hobby to distract myself from the drain of it all— spray painting. I was first invited to paint with couple of boys in my year that Thursday night and when the time came, I had felt so free. My first tag was horrendous since I’m not an artist, but the idea of just leaving your mark somewhere and the bright colors is so compelling. The adrenaline rush I got from it while ducking authority figures was also irreplaceable. It was reckless looking back, which was why I eventually ended up being chased by the police after the boys left me. But even then, I just couldn’t stop myself from busting out laughing. Despite everything I would never take it back. I would definitely call it one of my happiest days, and if I had to name that day, I would call it “Smells like teen spirit.”

POINTS

ORIGINALITY: 10/10

STORY: 8/10

EXECUTION: 10/10

STYLE: 9/10

Now those are some memories, and I feel like I learnt so much about the models. Thank you for the effort put into this week, I know it was a challenge but I wanted to see three different sides of your sims through their life. It was informative and I am so proud of the creativity you both have!! <3

TIME TO TALLY THE RESULTS OOOOO

Thanks guys x

- Buddy

[just-another-obsessed-fangirl]

list 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox of the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. learn to know your mutuals and followers 💖

aww this is so cute!! ily!!

baby photos/childhood photos. i have a bunch of them of me and most of my family saved onto my phone and i love when there's an excuse for me to bring them out at family parties. we're cleaning out our garage right now and we found a bunch of old photos and i keep getting distracted from cleaning because i keep wanting to go through them. when we finish with the garage, im gonna put them into albums in chronological order (as far as i can tell) and add them into my phone

making stupid memes and edits. i made less and less of them as my computer became more outdated but i started making some again for the purpose of some silly polls i wanna make thru brute forcing my computer into it. it's arguably more work put into them that'd be worth the payoff im gonna get, but i have a tendency to be hard on myself over the art i make, so i forgot how fun it is to make something intentionally low quality and silly and unserious just for a bit of a laugh

kinda on the topic of polls, i love reading tags on here and learning a bit about people, mutuals or followers or no. it's nice to know a bit about other people's lives on here, even mundane things, and feel something about connection and humanity. blah blah blah parasocial whatever im not even sure if most of us are using that word correctly. i make polls and participate in a lot of those posts that tell you to put things in tags not just because i want to overshare, but because i like seeing what other people reblogging from me say in my activity feed.

i love my cheap jewelry, especially my sets of earrings. before covid, wearing fun lipstick shades was kinda my thing, but obviously, with masks, it's not as fun to do so. ive turned to wearing cheap earrings (a lot of which are heart-shaped), and i love it. they're all cutesy or kitschy and may make me look a bit childish or something like that, but they make me happy.

my dad's pinakbet. last time my dad was here, he made pinakbet, and walking into the kitchen and realizing that that was what he was cooking made me sooo happy like i almost cried because it's been so long since i've had it and i didn't realize it. it's one of my favorite dishes ever. dad puts so much alamang in it that the meat turns pink, which isn't very traditional, but oh my gosh, it's so good.

+ 1 - my doggy! he's 15 and still going strong! still naughty but he's still my baby! look at him!

thank you so much for sending this! it's been a bit of a rough time for me lately, i think i needed this 💕💕💕

[maygrantnash]

talking about design choices/inspos + linking some assets below the cut!

i got really into poster making over the last month for my freelance work and i kept saving really cool reference posters on pinterest and i was super excited to make stuff like that but the client didn't like any of the ones i saved and i got sad but then i remembered i have free wil so. weewoo poster time

assets i used for all the posters:

i used paper + scanned texture + film burn sample packs from wave index

i made these 9-1-1 and fox logos and distressed them

1. Hen Begins

i decided to follow the chronological order of the show so hen begins was up first.

pros: i knew the exact kind of poster i wanted to model all of them after and i had a clear vision - i wanted them to look like those noisy brutalist/grunge movie/musician posters, like these:

breakfast club by hozergovia on ig | lady bird by jempg on pinterest | aftersun by justbychris on ig

cons: i was teaching myself how to achieve those effects + i went through many variations because it wasn't looking the way i wanted it to. here are some half-finished variants:

i think the issue w doing this ep first - much like the show - was that i was still experimenting so it ended up being the most basic poster of the lot. i really like where i ended up even though it wasn't looking super grunge; i kinda gave up on the monotone look at that point bc it wasn't working for me (i love colour too much)

also i realised what the colour scheme reminded me of lol

the yellow circle behind hen is a sticker png i picked up from @thepngpixie (x) and the stars are from @pngblog (x)

2. Chimney Begins

gonna #tbh i think this is my favourite one of the lot haha. this is the best begins episode and the second i saw the opening frame i knew what i wanted to look like

i made a version without stars bc i thought it might've been overkill. i went super heavy w the textures for the background and it turned out well, i also love the untextured drip of blood as a nod to him bleeding out (also hello red theory)

overall a solid ass poster i'd say.

the stars are from @pngblog (x)

3. Bobby Begins Again

i wanted this poster to be really be blended more than anything, so i picked screencaps and played with the colouring and gradients till it looked like it was smooth. i'd say this style is much more "classic" in the sense that this is what i'd do for making gifs and it's not necessarily the contemporary poster style i was going for. it felt more timeless than the rest. i liked the idea of keeping the fonts minimal and letting the imagery stand out. this had the most number of usable quotes i could find in the episode and i ended up using them all.

4. Athena Begins

this kind of looks like a magazine cover?? which i don't hate but it doesn't necessarily fit athena's character. i was going for a refined feel so ig i was naturally drawn to what i find fancy (architectural digest, seemingly)

anyways. angela bassett front and centre as she should be. i like this but it's not my fav

5. Eddie Begins

i had made 2 variants (4 actually bc when i saved these the first time i forgot to add ryan guzman's name) bc i wasn't sure i liked how small the strip of photos was in the first one. changing that meant changing the text hierarchy tho which i didn't like

i think this also feels very magazine-esque - i think the fonts are what's throwing me off. they look cool as hell tho.

6. Buck Begins

i intended to make it look like postcards were taped to the bottom of this poster but this specific screencap really reminded me of this poster for the movie one fine morning

i think it's the colours. i got super attached to this concept lol so i modeled the poster after this. i think it's very soft and pretty and i like it a lot :)

star png from @liltingaway (x)

ramble over! <3

9-1-1 Begins episodes as grunge(ish) posters

(I'm @madrasdiaz over on twt)

[metaphor-for-the-dead]

I started rereading the Naruto manga after purchasing the whole run back in December. As I've read I've been posting on my Instagram story, commenting as I go. I've pretty much just started part 2 so maybe I'll post them to here too idk. I've just been keeping the running commentary as I go talking about my views on dumb shit and how cool I think certain things are.

For here, we're starting at volume 30. Kakashi and Naruto have just started pursuing Deidara and Granny Chiyo and Sakura are taking on Sasori.

If this is stupid I won't update here in future but we'll see how it goes. Photos are in chronological order

I'm gonna use the tag "commentary for the dead" to make this easy to search and read in order too so if it does go well it's easier to follow

(NARUTO: post 1, volumes 30-31)

[sexdrugsrocknroller]

aight im making a post so i can say im using this shit like an actual diary

right now i have a grandeur of disorganization on my phone (laptop too but thats been a piece of junk since forever, fuck acer), between the basically full storage, mostly from the gallery (as of now i have a grand total of 93k photos. yes, 93 000 photos and videos.) plus my socials are fucked between the excessive saved and liked posts on instagram, same goes for tumblr here and twitter (i dont really use twitter, i only have an account to like and bookmark posts) and the youtube playlists and chronology.

plus my room is all messy with my not enough space for clothes and random papers and shit thrown together on any surface

i decided i dont like that and im changing it.

for the storage, i have already started deleting quite a bit, right now i deleted like 2300 elements but theres a lot more. sad part is that a lot of it is porn, wether drawn or short videos. im not gonna go full monk and delete all of it, though it would be easier, cause some of it i like. not to talk about the amount i already had to transfer on the laptop when i was tired of receiving warnings about the full storage in the last 2 years. i was also thinking of doing a backup of the whatsapp chats on the laptop so i can delete all the data on the phone storage. it would save me like 6 gb but its kinda extreme.

for socials, the solution is the same. tumblr: gradually remove liked posts i dont need to keep saved, and post what ive been keeping to post like i should have. last i checked, i had like 35k liked posts, and again, a lot of it porn. im not sure i want to post porn and erotica on this blog so for now im reblogging it on an alt, hoping it doesnt get deleted again. then ill have to unfollow some of the 4k blogs im following. guess what part of them are?

instagram, im not even going to remove all of the saved posts. its the social i used most to scroll at, i dont have the option to see how many posts i have saved but i dont think it would be an exaggeration to say i have at least a million. yea i know. im just going to get to a certain post i remember saving this summer, once im at that i will probably make another account altogether since i would never be able to clean all of it. i started this on around mid to end january, and as of now im just at mid october. after something like 20 non consecutive hours. yea its bad. it wouldnt be worth it to go past a certain point. better to just make a new one at that time and be more careful there.

youtube, i have the same problem of all social, i open a video just to keep it in the chronology so i can check it later and maybe save it. ive done it far too much. at least youtube is much faster to clean, but again i would never be able to check every single video i have left in the chrono to save at a second moment. thankfully once im done i could just go on settings and choose to do a tabula rasa of it, removing it completely.

twitter is probably also not worth the trouble of sitting thru all the posts i liked as a way of saving them. i probably shouldnt even care about it. this one has the least priority.

saved tabs on the browser? the easiest one by far out of all of it.

my room and the house in general, there isnt any second road, i just have to first remove and throw what i clearly dont need, store away whats left with some degree of order and hope i saved some space, and try to keep clean, plus store things with stricter orders so its cleaner. after my room and things, its time for the rest of the house.

all of this will be slow, gradual, and a major pain in the ass, but it has to be done and i intend to do it.

and all of this doesnt even include having to remake and update my cv and linkedin in preparation for when my contract ends, planning what to do for university between tests and papers and documents needed and all that, and this arguably has higher priority than all of above time and importance wise. but yknow. actually you dont know. even i dont know.

[easy-revenge]

Imagine Aki randomly finding things Himeno left behind at his place while cleaning or doing laundry. A tank top in his laundry. Her book she never finished reading. Her lighter she kept misplacing. Her shampoo he always loved the smell of. He keeps all of these things in a shoebox and he wishes he could find a photo of her. He's so scared of forgetting her face, even though he knows that can't possibly happen. Haha. I'm fine.

i was gonna answer these in chronological order since I've fallen off the face of the earth but i got this ask yesterday and i haven't stopped thinking about it......

criminal line of thinking. right up my alley.

i reposted fujimoto talking about her the other day which this post is a reference to and amidst all the love and respect his words about himeno conveyed, that line stuck with me.

it's so real of him to say that himeno leaves things of hers in aki's apartment. the follow up about her leaving little parts of herself in ppl's lives? not ready to talk about that yet, it's such a himeno thing and if sb doesn't say this about me after im dead i might as well not have lived /hj

anyways back to this. time to talk about grief again. oof. aki is such the type to be so quiet about it. he'd have such a personal grieving process.

him doing his errants at the crack of dawn and finding himeno's tank top in his laundry, briefly wondering if it belongs to power but knowing better. the way he'd stay very still for a moment, gripping the soft fabric a little too hard, knowing he washed every last bit of himeno off of it already. all but his memory of her wearing it, gone.

he'd definitely keep the things in a shoe box in a secluded place in his room. mostly to keep them safe from denji and power. somewhere inside also knowing that not seeing them around all the time will eventually help him heal. if he even has enough time left for that.

i imagine even after safely collecting everything and tucking it away, he'd still be reminded of her often. power sitting crosslegged on the balcony's chair just like himeno used to do. denji crouching in front of the fridge to inspect its contents, elbows on his knees.

every time, aki would lose his train of thought, stay still, stare for a moment, then seemingly snap out of it.

he does worry about forgetting her. not just her face. her voice, the way she would sing-song every sentence when she was tipsy, her easy smile, the blush on her cheeks. her touch, her casual affection, her long, knowing looks.

even the small things. the way she would hold a cigarette and refuse to dab the ash off until it was basically hanging off of it and threatening to burn any piece of clothing or paperwork around to cinders. her satisfied sigh after the first sip of cold beer.

the way she'd let her guard down around him sometimes, when they would sit in silence for a long time, her face muscles relaxing and her gaze getting more vacant. it'd remind aki of the himeno he met at the cemetery. selfish and honest and lonely. it never failed to bring tears to aki's eyes. he was always quick to cry.

it gets worse the more time goes by. he thinks about her less. his own life a slippery thing in his hands and his goals staying unachieved and unachievable.

it feels like even more of a betrayal when he asks to be off the gun devil mission. knowing he'd go private without a second thought now if it meant securing a normal, safe life for power and denji. knowing he could've had this with himeno if he'd only said yes back then. he'd be spared so much loss. he'd be spared from loving more people who were just as disposable and temporary as him.

yet he can't bring himself to regret any of it.

the shoe box collects dust in his room and aki keeps his fingers loose around his feeble, unimportant life and his heart open till the end.

[falderaletcetera]

hullo! I'm not super active there, but I've got a few tips off the top of my head if you want them:

-- as a heads up, you're going to want to tell people what instance/server you're on as well as your handle. you're probably on mastodon.social? so you'd tell people you're @unhallowedarts@mastodon.social, or just link them to your profile, and that way if anyone on another server has the same name, people will find the right one. it works kind of like email addresses with different providers that way.

-- different instances are sorta weird to wrap your head around, and there's a bit of drama and a bit of friction around it. essentially, the instance you're on determines the moderation policies, what you can post, and what you see in the "local" or "federated" timelines.

---- the "local" timeline is just the instance you're on - that'll show you every public post on your instance in chronological order. the "federated" timeline is the instance you're on AND every other instance that your instance is on good terms with. (there are, for instance, a handful of fashy servers that every decent instance is "defederated" from.)

-- you're gonna get some pressure to switch to a different instance. that may be advisable if you want the local and federated timelnes to actually be fun to look at; if you're just planning to just link up with some friends, you're safe staying put for however long you like. bear in mind that any instance you're on can go down at any time (though the older/bigger/actually-funded-by-donations ones are more stable), so choose wisely. that said migrating an account to another instance is a whole fuss so if you want to go try one out immediately with an entirely new account, go for it!

-- mechanics note: when you make a post, it can be "public" (shown in timelines), "unlisted" (visible to anyone, including relevant people and possibly followers, but not listed on timelines), "followers only" (like a twitter locked account), and "private". private posts are the closest thing to DMs but theoretically visible to the owners of the instance and anyone (see: government agencies, if you're careful about that sort of thing) they choose to share it with.

-- culture note: some instances have the expectation that the "content warning" feature should be used for things like photos of food, any distressing topics, photos of "eye contact" etc. some people also just call it a "content wrapper", using it like a "read more" on here. you may or may not find this irksome or useful.

-- another culture note: you'll see more people encouraging you to add image descriptions when posting pictures; in some instances it might even be part of the rules. I'd recommend doing so if it's something you feel up to - it can be short and simple.

THAT SAID. yes mastodon is confusing. yes it is a lot. mastodon isn't the most user-friendly and personally I'm not a convert to the Different Servers/Instances thing, but I see how avoiding twitter's fate (an elon musk in charge of everything) is important. anyway. disclaimer that if you're finding it all A Bit Much, that's because it is.

there's probably more I've forgotten and I'm not sure I've made total sense, so feel free to prod me with questions if you've got 'em!

edit: okay, I just saw your post about deleting because of the character limit. 😅 for what it's worth, I think that varies between instances - it's set by the owners - but I have no clue how you'd go about browsing them for that, unfortunately.

i signed up for mastodon, but not sure how to use it yet. anybody have tips or recs or want to share your handle so i can follow you there? i'm still @unhallowedarts

[forjongseong]

quiet // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: jay x fem!reader

genre: pure fluff I think! // warning: profanity (y/n is pretty wild with words), Namjoon is Y/N’s ex, Hoseok appears here too! // wc: ~1.2k

summary: you're helping your ex with a second opinion while a potential new love interest is waiting for you (or the two of you) right outside...

author’s note: if you have read quality time, then just take note that this fic happens BEFORE that one! there's a whole series of y/n and Jay in my collection and they are all over the place in terms of timeline (wow, Marvel much?), so I will make sure to let you know which one happens first, and keep you up with the chronological order! and here's the masterlist.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The word quiet is a noun that means the absence of noise or bustle. It can also mean that something, or someone, makes little to no noise. However, Jay is wondering what the absolute silence in front of him means.

Is it just because the studio is soundproof?

Is it just the way this building is built?

Is there actually noise coming from inside? Or are they just really quiet?

What are they doing?

Just minutes before, Jay spotted Namjoon rushing towards Rkive, followed by a woman whom Jay swore was Namjoon’s ex. As a million more questions fill his head, Jay paces down the hallway.

---

“Is this a good idea?”

Y/N noticed the decorative changes in Namjoon’s studio. It also looked significantly larger. She couldn’t remember the last time she visited Rkive, but she definitely thought it was a lot smaller. Was it because of what we were doing…

“What do you mean?” asked Namjoon after clearing his throat. Y/N almost flinched at the loud sound he made.

“Me being here?” Y/N was supposed to make that a statement but it sounded like a question instead.

Namjoon shrugged. “If you’re uncomfortable we can go to Yoongi hyung’s and listen there. I don’t have the new song on my phone which is why I brought you here, and by the looks of it there seems to be no way I would bump into you accidentally again.”

Y/N almost snorted. “Fair. But do you really need my opinion?”

Namjoon nodded without a beat. “Every song I preview to you ends up becoming a huge hit.”

“So I’m like a good charm or something.”

“You’re my second opinion that I trust the most outside of the group,” Namjoon clicked on the mouse and brought up a huge window on to one of the monitors. He then looked at Y/N. “So are you going to let me play it?”

Y/N’s gaze softened as she sighed. She then nodded. Namjoon smiled and played the song.

After years of knowing her, Namjoon noticed that it had been a habit of Y/N’s to just stare into the nearest corner as she listens to something new, a way for her to stay focused. This time, however, Y/N’s eyes wandered around, and when her eyes met his, it was him who averted his look to the corner of the room instead.

The song ended and Y/N tilted her head to the side momentarily before forming a smile on her face. Namjoon’s eyes looked hopeful.

“What do you think?” he asked, voice almost cracking from the long silence.

“Did Yoongi make the beat?” Y/N looked at the program and squinted to read the file names.

Namjoon chuckled. “Yeah, he did. You recognize his sound now?”

Y/N pursed her lips. “More like I always like the type of beats he makes.”

“Okay, so, completely ignore my voice on the demo then--”

“No! I mean…”

The two of them laughed as Y/N tried and failed to find a way to clarify what she was saying, while Namjoon was having none of it.

“It sounds great,” Y/N finally decided on an opinion. “It kinda sounds like the old you. All of you. I love it.”

She loves it.

Namjoon nodded. “Great. I’m gonna give it a go.”

As Y/N turned to leave, she caught a photo frame standing at the top of Namjoon’s shelf. She remembered it was a handmade wooden craft she brought from her hometown. Moni’s photo was placed within it.

“Cute dog. Nice frame,” Y/N blurted out in almost a whisper.

“Ah,” Namjoon chuckled and looked down. “I couldn’t find a better picture…”

There was a sudden knock on the door and for some reason Y/N took the liberty to open it. Namjoon stood there straightening his position, feeling embarrassed for no reason.

“Look who I found standing at the end of the hallway!”

Hoseok’s voice filled the room with joy as he dragged Jay into the studio with him.

“Hi?” Jay greeted everyone reluctantly. His face was red from embarrassment.

“Oh, sunshine!” Hoseok pretended not to be surprised seeing Y/N with Namjoon and he immediately lunged towards her for a hug. They did the starfish side-to-side movement thing which was what most best friends do after not seeing each other for so long.

“The hell are you doing here,” whispered Hoseok in Y/N’s ear, still embracing her.

“Ask your friend, you idiot,” Y/N whispered back.

They both pulled back with a huge smile before Y/N turned to Jay.

“Hi, Jay! How are you?” Y/N asked. Hoseok immediately took to talking to Namjoon.

“I, uh, I’m good, thanks.”

“Were you here to consult Joon about something?” she asked again.

She calls him Joon.

Jay was clearly flustered but he managed to find a way to hide it. His tone was so convincing that the only person who could see through him was the only woman who had masked her feelings all her life.

“Yeah, I was going to ask you for something, sunbaenim,” Jay turned to address Namjoon.

“First of all, it’s ‘hyung’. Second of all, please do! Did you knock?” Namjoon tilted his head, curious.

Hoseok waved his hand in front of them. “This little guy was just pacing outside, I think he’s too nervous to even knock. You’re the senior, you should approach him first, genius,” Hoseok hit Namjoon’s shoulder harder than he should. Y/N stifled a laugh.

“Hobi stop embarrassing him,” Y/N turned to Jay and gave him a comforting smile. “He’s all yours, I was just heading out.”

Jay nodded politely and started talking to Namjoon. Y/N exchanged glances with Hoseok.

“Do you have an hour? Please get coffee with me,” Y/N pouted as Hoseok moved closer to her.

“Ugh, I wish,” he flicked his wrist to look at his watch. “There’s dance practice in fifteen. I can hang out tomorrow though?”

“Boo, you whore.”

Hoseok cackled and it immediately halted the conversation going on between Jay and Namjoon.

“Are you busy too?” Y/N asked Namjoon. “This bitch won’t go with me,” she continued, pointing at Hoseok. Hoseok had tears coming out of his eyes from the stream of profanity.

Jay was trying hard to keep his mouth shut. Namjoon sighed and shook his head. “I’ve got a meeting.”

“Alright then you workaholics, I’m out. Catch you later,” Y/N gave Hoseok a quick side hug and blew a chaste kiss to Namjoon before waving goodbye to Jay.

---

Y/N let out a sigh of relief when the elevator finally arrived on her floor. As she walked inside, she heard someone jogging towards the elevator. She held the elevator open and found Jay catching his breath as he entered.

“Oh, hi!” Y/N greeted him again with a smile.

Let me catch my breath first, please.

“Do you still need company?” asked Jay, ruffling his hair and pushing the elevator button.

Y/N frowned as she turned to him. “Pardon?”

“You said you wanted to grab coffee,” Jay straightened his posture and smoothed down his shirt. “I have some time to kill.”

Y/N smiled. “You’re done consulting with Joon?”

Jay nodded. “Do you have a place in mind? There’s a café that I always go to with Heeseung. It’s just around the corner.”

“Sure, you can take me there,” Y/N’s tone sounded welcoming. She turned to face the elevator door.

As they headed down, Jay noticed almost the same type of quiet.

This time, though, it felt calm.

-END-

© forjongseong 2022, all rights reserved

reblogs and feedback would be much appreciated! also! please do stop by my ask box if you have anything you want to say! what do you think Jay was doing down the hallway? was he really asking for advice from Joon? is it advice about music, or...? LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS!

[mccoys-killer-queen]

Seeing Faster Pussycat/LA Guns/Tom Keifer Band in concert:

if you follow me on insta you know a LOT happened last night xD this is going to be a VERY long post I can just feel it. I gotta try and sort out my copious thoughts mixed in with all the events so we're gonna TRY doing this in chronological order:

*deep breath*

when I first got there 5 hours before showtime, I went inside to use the bathroom. Now this venue is relatively small, and they have a small restaurant upstairs (those are the bathrooms you have to use prior to doors). I went upstairs and I heard Tom soundchecking from there :o he was playing Don't Know What You Got (Til It's Gone) and it was making the room shake it was the greatest piss of my life

I was the 4th person in the general admission line and I was with these two guys, one of whom had a RAD hysteria tat and said I have Joe's (pyromania) haircut

this guy offered me free beer

one of these three people in front of me ended up being my "concert friend" (I'll refer to her as Robin) bc we talked so much and she's old enough to be my mom

Robin and the other two guys in front of me had VIP packages to see LA Guns' soundcheck so they left and I was first in line until only Robin came back

Slim Tender actually passed in front of us in line hours before doors opened but none of us really realized it was him

I got my photo pass and got in like 10 minutes before everyone else!! I ended up being front row at the barrier to stage left

Faster Pussycat's rhythm guitarist (Ronnie Simmons) gave me big Steve Clark vibes bc he's a skinny white boy with long hair who looked shy, did air split jumps while playing, and just in general felt Steve-y

Sam Bam is incredible and adorable just saying and FP sounded awesome like Taime sounds exactly the same as he did 30 years ago

They stole the fucking show I swear to god the night peaked with them imo

Phil was wearing a mesh tank top with a bandana and feathered hat he looked like a granddad trying too hard to be a pirate and the curly ass mustache didn't help

Phil looks like his 80s self is pretending to be old

Due to personal reasons I am now in love with Phil Lewis

he was dancing like a total dork it drove me insane I couldn't get enough

His speaking voice is so high???

Phil grabbed his left tiddy like twice during their set

guys I SWEAR I saw a tramp stamp on him with my own two eyes I SWEAR I saw it you gotta believe me

Phil pointing at my camera during the first fucking song and me not getting the shot ;-;

Phil replacing random lyrics with the words "Tracii Guns" (i.e. "nowww Tracii's breaking hearts in heaven")

Phil giving a speech about Tracii during Jayne and saying how he's been his best friend for over 30 years and how "no man has ever touched me like he has-"

Tracii: *pokes Phil's shoulder* C:

Phil: "-and I LIKED it"

Tracii: *pokes Phil's boob* C:

Ace apparently pulled his groin early in their set (I was on Tracii's side so I didn't see- I will elaborate more on this later)

since I was on the side of the stage with the exit, that meant the drinks were there too, so every time Tracii went into a solo, Phil would come over and would almost always interact with me and the teenage girls next to me

at one point I took advantage of this and I blew a kiss at him when he was in front of me, to which he went :O and slapped his cheek to show he "caught" it and I went fuckin ballistic

at the end of their set Phil grabbed one of Tracii's picks and crouched down in front of me and threw it to me (I CAUGHT IT)

was anyone going to tell me Tracii Guns is a dilf or-

I literally thought Johnny Martin was a woman the whole time- like I KNEW it had to be him but I was seriously second guessing myself because he just- he was in glasses and a scarf and a hat and he haS A VERY FEMININE BUILD

Phil saying he's happy to be "on top of this beautiful mountain again" (the venue is on top of a mountain) and it's so weird bc like ? this is just where I live? and he likes it? HE likes it??

apparently Phil complemented a girl on her tits during the show (she was showing a lot on purpose and bouncing a lot and he just kinda motioned bouncing tits with his hands and nodded- I'M TOLD- I didn't actually see any of this. Robin told me afterwards)

LA Guns stole the show I stg I had no idea how Tom was gonna top that it was the peak of my night

Tom was ethereal just saying he sounds T H E E. S A M E. HAS HE DID ON NIGHT SONGS.

Tom's knee high boots and tight pants hell yeah

Tom wasn't really playing with the crowd that much but he did slightly acknowledge me during Shelter Me by just kinda looking at me and singing

He played much more Cinderella than I expected I was LIVING

Tom saying we (him and the crowd) are basically related bc we're all from PA. So from this point onward I am related to Tom Keifer I didn't make these rules he said it himself

Tom during Nobody's Fool going "I SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMM- *falls to his knees*" a capella, letting his voice absolutely shudder the whole building, and holding it forever and everyone going nuts what a fucking god

Tom betting we knew every word to Nobody's Fool which we DID

his playing just seems so smooth????

his wife Savannah being on backing vocals and them doing Don't Know What You Got (Til It's Gone) together was really cute ;-;

Before they did that Tom told us to "show him some Pennsylvania stars" (aka put our lights on during the song)

the stars actually coming out in the sky after the show ;-; <3

they did Long Cold Winter as an encore and I was dissociating thee whole fucking time so badly because I was THAT exhausted- like I didn't even recognize the song until the very end I was that out of it. I didn't have anything to drink- alcohol or not.

someone was holding a very good drawing they did of him and his wife the whole time and at the end of the set one of the roadies took it from her and brought it back, and came out a minute later asking if she wanted it back, to which she said they could keep it. SO yeah Tom and Savannah kept a fan's drawing of them ;-; <3

Tom's hair is still godly

I also never knew he has a nice butt 👌 and legs

When Tom was recording the video of the crowd he put on his insta he was like "hold on I gotta I make sure I recorded bc the other night I fucked it up and didn't get it..."

"...I GOT IT" *audience cheers bc yay Tom knows how to use a phone good for u honey we're proud*

Okay that's JUST from the show. Now here's where it gets crazy.

[cmtcahrule]

Armie Hammer song pics from 2017

A continuation of my post on NYE 2020 which featured Armie’s song pics from 2020. I will do a post on 2017, 2018 and 2019 for historical purposes for the fandom.

2017 was when Armie first started recommending song pics to his followers. On June 23, 2017 he posted this:

On June 29, 2017, he posted this song recommendation:

On July 1-2, 2017, Armie flew to New York City for the British GQ CMBYN photo shoot with Timothee. This is the weekend he posts a picture of Tim in the hallway of his apartment building and Tim delights us with his white hat selfie profile picture. 

Here is Armie’s Tweet after he leaves New York City. I am guessing the “Him” is Timothee but I do not know. 

The next song posted on July 28, 2017 is when Armie is recording the CMBYN audiobook - ONEOHTRIX POINT NEVER - THE PURE AND THE DAMNED. This is the start of him posting song pics in the format we are used to seeing with an artist and a dash and the song title. I found these lyrics interesting...

Every day I think about untwisting and untangling these strings I'm in And to lead a pure life I look ahead at a clear sky Ain't gonna get there But it's a nice dream, it's a nice dream

Death, make me brave Death, leave me swinging

The pure always act from love The damned always act from love The truth is an act of love

Some day, I swear, We're gonna go to a place where we can do everything we want to And we can pet the crocodiles

Here are the rest of the song pics for 2017 in chronological order.

1.      BONES - ART OF CREMATION

2.      BROTHEL – NUMB

3.      JOSH PAN – NOWHERE

4.      NICO AND VINZ – INTRIGUED

5.      SUICIDE BOYS - PARIS

6.      COLTER WALL - SLEEPING ON THE BLACKTOP

7.      PRINCESS NOKIA - G.O.A.T.

8.      CHESTER WATSON - WATCHING YOU DREAM

9.      BBYMUTHA - INDIAN HAIR

10.   KRUDER & DORFMEISTER - DEEP SHIT PART 2

11.   ERNEST RANGLIN - SURFIN

12.   DJ DEREZON - COLOSSAL

13.   DENZEL CURRY - EQUALIZER

14.   CAKES DA KILLA - KEEP IT GOING

15.   ARISTOPHANES - U WERE NOT HERE

16.   LOUNDON WAINWRIGHT III - I AM THE WAY

17.   GOLDFRAPP - STRICT MACHINE

18.   TIMMY THOMAS - COLD COLD PEOPLE

19.   NNAMDI OGBONNAYA - FREEZE - FAR OUT VERSION

I especially like the lyrics to Nico and Vinz’ Intrigued and it’s a favorite in one of my playlists:

It's the simple things that makes me wanna love ya The way you talk to me like nothing else matters The way you flip your hair when you come to say hi I'm already yours, you caught me by surprise

I stopped believing in love So I've been forcing it out Said I been living a lie I knew it when I looked in your eyes I'm the king of the world when you stand by my side Can we fill the tank up and drive through the night? I've been saving up, I don't wanna waste time Leave it all behind, put it all on the line, oh Can you give me one more night? 'Cause I'm 'bout to make this right Tell me what you got to lose You're intrigued, you know it's true And we can see another day With no more lies and no mistakes Don't let the devil talk you through

[gumnut-logic]

Callisto (Full Prologue)

Prologue Part One - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5 Part Two - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3

When I first started this story, I was of two minds whether to put all of the prologue at the front or scatter it throughout the fic. I started with 700-odd words of it and drove into the body.

It fast became obvious that I really needed to build a lot more into the prologue as the OCs were empty shells and I needed to explain the story behind them and why Jeff is so determined.

So at the end of Part Two, I stopped and went back. This is the result. Nearly 5000 words of Jeff Tracy landing on Mars. It can stand as its own story, but it definitely leads into the planned events for the novel, Callisto. Either way I hope you enjoy it. Be aware that the first 500 words or so may be familiar as they were part of the original version. Don’t worry, the rest is new.

Of course, many, many thanks to @tsarinatorment​ @scribbles97​ and @janetm74​ for all the amazing support and help with this fic. Plus @onereyofstarlight​ my go to science officer on this voyage. You guys are absolutely amazing and I couldn’t have done this without you ::massive group hug::

Now this is done, I can finally go back to writing the novel chronologically. I have to say that this is going to be one hell of a ride.

No warnings needed.

-o-o-o-

2033

 “Another boy?”

Jeff grinned. “Yeah. Another one.” He couldn’t help but stare at the photo that had landed on his screen as a good luck token from Earth.

He did of course, know about Lucille going into labour the night before and it was for that reason he hadn’t had the sleep he probably should have pre-history making Mars landing. But honestly, to get this signal from that little blue planet a good eight months away…his heart swelled…his beautiful baby boy had a shock of red hair that screamed their Irish ancestry down through the hundreds of years since their family had left the old world.

Lucille sat holding him, looking tired but ever so proud. Her dark hair was tied back and the sparkle in her eyes brought a lump into his throat. Her mother, pink hair and all, sat beside his wife holding his two eldest boys on her lap. Scott had his hand on Virgil’s arm as the now second youngest reached over towards his baby brother, a frown of concentration on his face.

“He’s beautiful.”

Jeff startled a little. Berry was breaking regs and leaning over the back of Jeff’s pilot couch, her straps unfastened. The cockpit was pretty snug in the lander, most of the room taken up with safety equipment and interfaces, leaving little for the padded personnel support.

He shot an eyebrow in her direction and she smiled a dare back at him. The astrogeologist wasn’t one for breaking the rules, she just liked to taunt him a little.

Ju, in contrast, was checking her harness was secure a second time. “Creating your own crew, Tracy?” Her auburn eyes smirked at him. “Aiming to replace us?”

He grinned. “Could be.” Dare he mention that his four-year-old eldest could already name all the controls in this cockpit? His grin widened. “But we can’t replace the first person to set foot on Mars, now can we?”

Berry snorted, a little abashed. But it was, after all, her part to play once they made touchdown. The words had been rehearsed, the order of exit decided. For very specific reasons, the first human on Mars was going to be Kate Berrenger.

Berry had worked her ass off to make this mission a reality. Her specialisation onboard was astrogeologist, but honestly it was far more. The woman was talent on legs. It was she who had designed much of the equipment they were deploying on the surface, she who had hunted and gathered the funding, she who had put in the sweat and tears to make this work. And Ju wasn’t far behind. The two of them were quite a powerhouse pair. Jeff considered himself and Lee lucky to have been chosen for this mission. Of course, he’d known Berry for a very long time, worked with her for most of it, but it wasn’t a given that the team that had helped populate the moon would also be the first on Mars.

“Given how many life support pods we’re dragging down there, I bet your boys could drop by in about thirty years or less.”

“You gonna put your money where your mouth is, Berry?” The thought was tantalising. Not to put pressure on any future careers – Lucy would kill him – but he would hope that at least one out of three might follow in his footsteps.

Maybe?

He turned around and opened his mouth, only to be interrupted. “Major Tracy, tell your team to secure. Two minutes to separation.” Sinclair was his usual grumpy, nervous self.

“Roger that, Orbiter Control.”

He glared at Berry and the redhead bit her lip with a smile, green eyes dancing, before sitting back and strapping herself in preparation for the sequence.

She didn’t stop smiling though.

“So watcha gonna name him?” Lee prodded him with his eyebrows from beside Jeff.

A last glance at the photo before he returned to separation prep, fingers tight in his gloves. “Are you going to remember this one?” An eye in the engineer’s direction.

“Sure.”

Running his fingers over the controls, Jeff ran through pre-flight. “Name my eldest.”

Lee grunted, his eyes darting away. “Not important right now.” A flick of a switch. “I’m green across the board.”

“A-ok.” Jeff ran through the last sequence of checks…and ran them again…for luck. “Orbiter Control, we are green for separation.”

“Roger that, Cornerstone. Separation in sixty seconds on my mark.” A breath. “Mark.” Another pause. “Good luck.”

And the countdown began.

Jeff ran his eyes over everything again. The great ship that had journeyed so far from home was preparing to split in half. The lander at the top of the vessel was to pull away from the orbiter and its massive propulsion engines to begin the historic descent to the Martian surface. Eight months in space, so much preparation time and so many sacrifices before that, had all led to this moment.

History in the making.

His eyes combed the readouts watching like a hawk. The computer had control, but computers could only do so much.

Still green across the board.

Quiet, his fingers touched the screen where the photo had been. “John Glenn Tracy.” A breath. “His name is John.”

Displays shifted as the countdown hit zero and machinery grunted. The Cornerstone drifted apart from its propulsion module and floated free far above the red of the Martian surface.

Jeff eyed his instrumentation and sent a prayer to his family back home.

Today was an important day.

-o-o-o-

Lee watched Jeff side-on as he clicked his helmet into place. Taylor was a realist and he knew he wouldn’t be here without the crazy pilot.

It was Jeff’s drive that had gotten them this far. It was like riding a rollercoaster of determination and outright luck. From the Airforce, through space training and their sojourns on Alfie, Lee had tied himself to the man’s coat tails and hadn’t looked back.

God, it had been fun.

Jeff Tracy was a tsunami that crashed through everything and took everyone with him.

And Lee went willingly.

When they had been chosen for this mission it was a dream come true.

The countdown dropped to zero and machinery clunked as the lander separated smoothly from the orbiter. She drifted momentarily before the computer engaged thrusters to push her gently out of orbital alignment.

“We are five by five for atmospheric entry.” The words he uttered were almost rote after so many practise simulations back on Earth.

Atmospheric entry on Mars was considerably different to entry on Earth. Terran atmosphere was more like soup in comparison to the barely-there Martian atmosphere. Still made for a warm entry though, friction was friction after all.

“Trajectory achieved.” Jeff’s voice was confident and firm. As always.

Lee eyed the computer readouts, mentally ticking off procedure as the lander dipped into the outer reaches of the atmosphere and shifted to its entry interface.

Forces wrapped themselves around Lee and his body responded. After so many months of weightlessness, this was going to be a challenge.

“Ready for deceleration burn.”

The landing module sported early entrance stage retro thrusters designed to slow the vehicle to reduce the friction on the spacecraft’s skin. A new innovation that had proven essential in many return trips to the moon in preparation for the creation of a habitable dome on the satellite.

And here they were attempting to do something similar on Mars.

Cornerstone shook as her thrusters engaged exactly on time.

The craft roared.

Lee revelled in it.

“Three minutes to subsonic.”

“I really hate this bit.” It was barely heard above the commotion.

Lee snorted to himself. Ju was an astronaut in every sense, but she had a thing regarding atmospheric entry and the microscopic bits they could be exploded into if something went wrong.

“We are on track, Ju. Not a thing to worry about.” His voice reassurance itself, Jeff could sell the moon cheese if he so felt like it.

“Orbiter to Cornerstone. Tracy, we have a problem.”

Lee blinked. Sinclair’s voice was ominous.

“Orbiter, detail?”

“Cornerstone, weather has kicked up on the landing site. We have a developing dust storm. Looks to be a big one.”

“Orbiter, we are fixed for descent. Please advise severity.” Jeff’s tone was frustrated and Lee couldn’t help but echo it.

Data landed in Lee’s console and while Jeff continued to monitor their descent, Lee examined the situation. “We have a category five dust storm developing over the landing site. Orbiter is right, she looks like she could actually do some damage.”

Mars dust storms were generally all gust and no guts. The air density and pressure forced storms that were dramatic to look at, but generally little more than a windy day on planet Earth. This one, however... “It’s an anomaly.”

Jeff’s eyes darted from his console to Lee’s, grey eyes assessing the data. “Ju, your opinion?” They had to make the decision fast. Altering their trajectory now was possible, but fuel was precious. Any extra used now narrowed their safety margin for later.

The meteorologist’s fingers darted over her board. “Unusual strength, I agree.” Lee glanced in her direction as she frowned. “But Cornerstone should be able to handle it.”

“‘Should’ is not a good enough assumption, Zhang.” Jeff was frowning. The lander’s retros cut out as they reached a safe enough velocity to manoeuvre and Jeff’s hands curled around the yoke.

Lee’s finger darted over his board and brought up the outside cameras.

The red planet stretched out before them, her slightly blue tinted atmosphere contrasting against the rust of her surface.

That surface was churning.

Ju was outraged. “How the hell did that develop in the time it took us to separate from Orbiter? She was as calm as a sleeping baby!”

“I don’t care about then, I need now. Zhang, recommendation!”

The woman grunted. “I say go. If you think you can handle it. It is well within Cornerstone’s specs. Your decision, Major.”

Jeff’s lips thinned, his eyes darting across the readouts. A moment and he hit the comms switch. “Orbiter, we are go for landing. We’ve come this far, might as well go all the way.”

“Tracy, are you sure?”

“Humanity never got anywhere taking it easy.” He glanced at Lee. “Hold onto something.”

Cornerstone began her turn, orientating her nose to the sky so her retros could lower her safely to the Martian surface.

Or in Jeff Tracy terms, ‘spinning so she could park her ass’.

As if reading Lee’s mind, the glint in Jeff’s eyes was something to both be wary of and to celebrate.

Out of the four of them, Jeff was the most reckless, the most daring. But as he was the pilot, it sometimes called for it. Jeff had already saved them from becoming just another crater on Earth’s moon by pulling the most unconventional manoeuvre ever seen on the satellite when a landing thruster misfired on approach. The craft had shot off on a completely unpredicted vector that would have ploughed them into moon dust...if Jeff hadn’t reacted as fast as he did. He flipped the craft with its remaining three thrusters and, shedding the majority of their velocity in an energy dump that had Lee’s stomach on the outside, planted their craft like a sack of potatoes.

They had landed roughly, but they had landed alive and Lee was still amazed his friend had been able to do that.

So, if they were going down in a cloud of red dust, Lee was quite happy to have Jeff at the controls.

Not to say that Lee himself wasn’t handy with a spacecraft. He had his own experience to be proud of. He flew, but his realm was more the mechanical. He was here as back up and maintenance.

For those times the Tracy fix wasn’t quite enough.

A sigh. He eyed the billowing clouds below as they rapidly approached. They were history in the making. Whatever happened here today would be taught in schools for decades to come.

He had faith in Jeff. They would land, Berry would take those first important steps on a new planet, say the rehearsed words, and join Neil Armstrong in the halls of fame.

But first they had to get there.

-o-o-o-

Jeff swallowed as the cloud of dust loomed beneath the lander. Numbers scrolled across his console. The computer should be able to handle most of it. Its programming was solid. Lucy had made sure of it.

The thought of his beautiful wife...little Johnny.

Dust swelled and wrapped around their craft and visibility became...bad.

Cornerstone shuddered.

Mars dust was a bastard of a thing. Ever so fine and carrying a tiny electric charge that on occasion interfered with instruments.

This was one of those occasions.

“We have blackout on three primary sensors.” Damn. Two others flickered, the screen fritzing a moment.

His fingers darted over controls in an attempt to compensate for the data loss.

Lee was muttering beside him and stabbing at his board. “Rerouting to back-ups.”

Their screens flickered and cleared somewhat.

Numbers plummeted.

Beyond the blinding dust the digital readout that marked the surface of the planet approached.

Far too fast.

Retros crucial to start the landing sequence did not fire.

Shit.

It took seconds for him to compensate and move to manual, but that was enough for the craft to fall many more metres so, when he did manually trigger the burn, they were lower than they should be.

Cornerstone roared as he pushed more energy into braking.

“Lee, we need primary thrust or we are so much pancake!” Her four landing thrusters were not slowing them enough. The math in his head was churning out a fatal result and their history-making attempt was fast turning into a shitfest. “I need that power now.”

“You have it.” Short and sharp as Lee’s hands darted over his console.

On Jeff’s board the main thruster icon lit up.

It wasn’t meant to be used this way. The main thruster was for launching. It was far more powerful than they needed to land. But if he didn’t slow Cornerstone, she was going to take on a big red rock and lose.

The computer ran calculations and spat numbers out at him.

“Firing main thruster.” The icon flashed, Cornerstone roared and g-forces wrapped around all of them and squeezed.

No one said anything for the second of burn that slowed their descent ever so rapidly. Everything shook, the ship’s superstructure groaning.

Jeff’s eyes tracked their velocity, counting down as the surface of the planet rushed towards them. Visually they couldn’t see it. Virtually it looked ready to slap them in the face.

But the main thruster compensated, slowing the craft just enough for the landing rockets to do their job.

Jeff killed the big one and concentrated on the landers to take the last of their speed.

Cornerstone slowed. Five hundred metres. Four hundred metres. Three hundred metres. Two hundred metres. One hundred metres. Landing struts deployed. Fifty. Thirty. Twe-

The whole ship slammed to a stop, its structure groaning and tilting for a second before righting itself. Alarms began shrieking, red lights flashing all over his board.

What the hell?!

The readout had them stalled nineteen metres ‘above’ the virtual surface. Virtual was obviously not lining up with actual.

Another metallic groan and the ship tilted slightly again. This time it stayed tilted. No doubt a landing strut had taken the brunt and folded.

One red light screamed at him more than the others.

Beside him, Lee confirmed his fears. “We have a fuel leak.”

Shit!

He was unstrapping himself even as the craft groaned again. Something sparked not far away. Lee was a split second behind, listing the reason for the malfunction. The exterior hull, and the mangled landing strut responsible.

A rupture in the external hull. Hell.

Jeff undocked a diagnostic pad and slapped it on his belt.

Martian gravity made itself known. So many months without its native pull, Jeff’s body protested the sudden movement, but they didn’t have time. Precious fuel was escaping.

He hit the ladder leading out of the cockpit at a run, feet locking around the struts and his hands pushing him down. The whole sensation of gravity, but only a third of Earth’s was baffling. His body caught between expectations and stumbling along the way. Ultimately, he partly fell his way down through the access ports, hands grabbing at the railings barely preventing him from colliding with each deck.

Cornerstone’s fuel tanks were attached to her four landers, with a fifth fueling her main launcher.

It was number three that was the problem.

His boots hit decking and he scrambled for the airlock. Beside him Lee had a toolkit and they both barrelled through the door sealing it behind them.

The pumps cycled and the pressure dropped, their suits shifting with the change, and then the elevator was lowering them to the ground.

As the doors opened, they were faced with a wall of swirling dust.

Jeff did his best to ignore it but it fast became a problem. The maintenance tab in his hand was directing him to climb ladders up the side of the vehicle, but he could barely see the tablet, much less the ladders themselves through the red dust.

“Stick close, Lee. I’d hate to lose you in this.”

“Right behind you, Jeff. Wouldna want to lose you either.”

It was simple, but reassuring nonetheless. Fumbling, he found the landing strut. It was skewed in a way that even in the thick swirling haze, he could see was far from the right angle for correct support.

Hooking a foot into the lowest rung, he snagged his friend and urged him up the ladder ahead. If anyone was going to save their asses in this situation, it was Lee.

If Jeff could land it, chances were Lee could fix it. The man could jimmy two sticks and a rubberband into whatever was needed. Hell, he’d done almost exactly that on the moon at least twice.

This was just another challenge. Jeff had landed them, no matter how roughly. Now Lee would be able to fix it.

Jeff clung to that maxim.

But the question wasn’t about skill, it was more about whether or not they were going to damn well be able to see what they needed to see in order to do what needed doing.

Red obscured everything. The speed it was all flying past spoke to his earth senses of gale force winds, but the pressure on his suit was little more than a windy day.

Not enough to affect the spacecraft.

Mars was obviously educating them early that this was not Earth. Not in any way shape or form.

Their clamber up the strut was partly a blind one, but they made it to the damaged side of the craft. Through a mixture of touch and virtual readout, it became clear that the outer hull had buckled, forcing the inner hull into the fuel tank. Most of it had held, but there was a small microfracture and the pressure differences were bubbling solid state fuel into gas at a rate that, if it didn’t deplete the tank, would likely cause an explosion that would solve all their problems with a history-making finality.

Jeff climbed up beside Lee as he fumbled at his tool kit. The tank was dislodged off its mounts, something they would need to remedy later, but it was still inset from the hull.

Jeff put his body in position to block the main flow of the dust and wind, jamming himself up against the still warm hull of his ship.

A little less dust swirled over the bubbling crack and Lee didn’t hesitate. Before Jeff could blink, gell bondtape landed smoothly over the area, the engineer sealing it with an electronic nudge from a set-wand. The electricity lined molecules up like soldiers and locked them in place bonding them to whatever the tape was adhered to. They had used the same stuff on Alfie two years ago when one of their habitats had tried to make one with the lack of lunar atmosphere.

An extremely simple solution for a very dangerous problem.

His heart, still adrenalin-fueled, refused to believe the danger was over.

As if reading Jeff’s thoughts, Lee smirked at him through the haze. “Never leave home without it.” A sigh as he ran a gloved hand over the seal. “This should hold for the short term. Once we are sure the strut is stabilised, I’ll give it a good going over. Hopefully, we can lose this storm in the process.”

Jeff would have liked to claim it couldn’t blow forever, but both of them knew Mars storms could be unpredictable and last for months if they so chose to.

Lee ran a scanner over the strut’s connection to the launcher. How the hell the engineer could see the readouts, Jeff didn’t know.

For all future excursions to the Red Planet, Jeff was going to recommend helmet based heads-up displays.

“She’s safe for now. A little bent, but she isn’t going to fall over. Hopefully, once we get out some of the heavy lifting equipment we can bend her back into shape if we need to.” Lee stood up. “Hull patching is going to be an ass, though.”

Jeff’s lips thinned and he dropped a hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “One thing at a time. We’ve got this, Lee.”

Lee grunted. “How the hell do you keep spinning the optimism, Jeff?”

A snort. “What? You’d prefer doom and gloom?” He shuffled back towards the ladder. “That’s it, Lee, we’re never leaving this god forsaken rock. Welcome to your new home.” He raised up his hands and as if the gods declared him some kind of Moses for that very moment, the dust clouds parted as if they were a red sea of sand. Sol, so much smaller this far away, poked its weak light through the hazy atmosphere and lit up the bare red rocks of their temporary home. While on one side, the billowing wall of dust storm swirled on its way, on the other red mountains rose up to a weak blue-red sky.

Lee shifted down beside him. “You know, I figured you had an agreement with the gods of physics, but isn’t this a little ridiculous?”

Jeff was too captivated with the view to respond.

Cornerstone was on the plateau they had been simulating for months on end. She stood tall and proud, if a little crooked and pinker than her promo shots.

“We made it.” The words fell from his lips.

Lee clung to the ladder beside him. “Yeah, that we did.”

Sunlight flickered weakly in the atmosphere and a gust of wind dragged more dust across the view.

Jeff shifted. “We better get inside before that mess starts up again. Take advantage of being able to see where we are going.”

Lee didn’t respond immediately, his eyes combing the jagged horizon. “Thanks, Jeff.”

A frown. “For what?”

“Getting us here.”

“It was a group effort, Lee, you know that. Couldn’t have done it without the team. Couldn’t have done it without you. Hell, you just patched a hole that could have blown us up.”

Lee grunted.

“Are you guys going to hang outside all day, or do we have to guess the sitrep?” Berry’s tone was tight.

“Roger, Berrenger. Situation secure. On our way back in.”

It wasn’t until they reached the elevator that he realised exactly what had happened.

And who he was.

By the doors, protected by the shadow of the lowered module was a single footprint that hadn’t been blown away by the wind.

“Aw, hell.”

Lee, as always, stepped up beside him. “Yeah. I guess that makes you the first man to walk on Mars.”

-o-o-o-

Ju was furious. “It was Kate’s right to be the first!”

The vacs in the airlock had sucked everything off their suits to the point Lee was surprised his hair wasn’t standing on end despite the helmet.

As it was, his hackles were somewhere near orbit as they stood in the conference room that doubled as a mess. “And what exactly do you think we were supposed to do? The ship was going to explode.” It was simple to Lee. Sure, he was all for equality, it was a given, but they would’ve been all equally dead if he and Jeff hadn’t done what they did.

“You didn’t give us a chance!”

“I’m the engineer here, Zhang. There wasn’t time! The decision was made and we are alive because of it.”

“Then why weren’t you first, Taylor? Why the hell was Tracy even out there? He’s not the engineer!”

Beside Lee, Jeff straightened. “Standard procedure, Zhang. We work in pairs. If you think I was going to let Lee go out in that on his own, you’ve been serving while wearing a blindfold.”

The short, dark-haired woman stepped up to the Major, her eyes fiery. “It was Kate’s place in history and you stole it!”

Lee flared. “We did what was necessary! This was not a publicity grab, for Christ’s sake! It didn’t even occur to us until we were returning. It was about saving our lives, Zhang. How can you possibly think it was anything else?”

“Because it always is.” She waved a hand at Jeff. “Always the hotshot. Always the first. Always the hero. Do you ever think, Tracy? Do you ever think about those you barrel past?”

Jeff glared down at the meteorologist. “I will not apologise for my achievements, Zhang. This was an honest to god accident.”

“Due to decisions made by you.”

“What the hell, Zhang?!” Lee pushed forward. That was taking it too far.

“We should never have tried to land in that dust storm. We should have waited it out.”

“You said we could take it!”

“But it wasn’t my decision, was it?” Her tone was a positive hiss at Jeff.

“Screw you, Zhang-“

“Taylor!”

“Jeff-“

The man was still the damn tall walking wall when he wanted to be. “Lee, stop.” He glared at Ju. “I will not apologise for my command decisions either, Zhang. What was done, is done.” His stance softened as he turned to Berry.

She had been ominously quiet the entire time.

Jeff sighed. “I’m sorry, Kate.”

The red-haired astrogeologist straightened away from the bulkhead, her arms still folded across her chest. Lee had always liked Berry. She had her head on much straighter than Ju ever did.

Ju was like a terrier with a bone.

The bone variety today was definitely Jeff-flavoured.

But there was only kindness in Berry’s eyes as she looked up at the Major. “This sucks, Jeff, it really does.” She looked down a moment. “But it is what it is and I guess it was what it was meant to be.” A shrug. “I suppose I’ll have to settle for third on Mars. Still pretty momentous, I think.”

“Kate, it doesn’t have to be that way.” Jeff took a step towards her. “It’s not official. It was a stupid repair. We can do the ceremonial step onto the planet anyway. No one has to know.”

Her head tilted to one side. “So, the ship miraculously healed itself?”

“Berry-“

She closed the gap between them, placing a hand on his arm. “Jeff, honestly, it’s not what is important here. You took the first step. We still have plenty of others that need to be taken. My ego can keep.”

Zhang flared again. “Kate, this was for women-“

“Ju, enough. It doesn’t matter! Humans have just landed on Mars, for god’s sake. I would have thought we would be a little less worried about the gender of the person taking the first step and more worried about the fact we did it without blowing up.”

“It was supposed to be you.” Ju wilted in defeat under Berry’s glare.

“Well, it was Jeff, and I think he is no less deserving than any of us.”

Jeff’s voice was quiet. “Are you sure, Kate?” The use of her first name was a rarity for the major, there was a friendship between those two almost as long as the one between Jeff and Lee. Hell, if Jeff hadn’t met Lee’s sister, Lucy, the engineer wondered what might have eventuated in that department.

Not that he had ever had to worry about that. Jeff was a complete sop for Lucy. His sis had the man wrapped around her little finger.

If that made Lee feel just that touch more protective of the crazy pilot, then so be it.

Kate straightened, her shoulders strong. “I’m sure.” Then her lips curled up a little. “Besides, my lines were so much more elegant than ‘Stick close, Lee. I’d hate to lose you in this.’”

Jeff snorted and shrugged. “If I’m going to make history gotta make sure my best friend is with me.”

Zhang made a disgusted sound and stormed out of the room.

Shoulders dropping, Jeff sighed. “Guess I need to work on my phrasing.”

But Lee was too wrapped in the moment, a little too proud and grateful to care. “She’ll live.”

The grunt from Jeff reminded Lee that they still had months to share living quarters with the fiery Ju.

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her.” Berry squeezed Jeff’s arm before reaching out to Lee as well. “Thank you, both of you, for getting us down safely. We’re on Mars, guys. Let the party begin.”

The smile in her eyes was honest and ever so heartening.

-o-o-o-

Next

[thecreepiestcarrie]

#JusticeforJohnnyDepp: Johnny’s witness statements at a glance (Stephen Deuters, Malcolm Connolly & Trinity Esparza)

Things I Cover in this Post:

May 2014: incident on the plane

March 2015: the finger injury incident in Australia

May 2016: the phone throwing incident, leading to the application for the TRO

AH’s behaviour following her applying for the Temp Restraining Order against Johnny

Elon Musk’s involvement with AH

The witness statements I am featuring highlights from are from Stephen Deuters- personal assistant to Johnny from 2004-2017, working currently as the European president of Johnny’s production company (his texts were included in The Sun’s opening statement, there have been inconsistencies in his story but he claims the messages were altered), Malcolm Connolly-  security guard of Johnny since 2004 and Trinity Esparza-  owner of the Eastern, works as front desk supervisor since 2014.

I’m gonna go in chronological order of these events, which begins with Stephen Deuters statements.

The Sun have cast some doubt over how trustworthy Stephen’s accounts can be, citing text messages, which Stephen says were doctored.  Here we see that Stephen was using Scum’s language back to her to placate her because she was probably unresponsive and unwilling to converse with anyone until they presented themselves as at least a little on her side, I’m assuming. Was it manipulative of him to use the word ‘kick’ in order to gain a different reaction out of Scum? A bit, sure. But from the audio recordings we can see that she is insistent when she thinks she’s making a point, we can even hear how her use of language/the way she refers to certain incidents does not match up with the recollections of others present at the time. I think an important part of Stephen’s statement here is that the authenticity can be proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt. The chairs in the plane were fixed to the ground - facts are facts. What plane doesn’t have furniture fixed to the floor? What kind of crazy health and safety hazard is that?

This is something I wanted to expand upon. Victims of domestic violence can/will hide their injuries in order to protect their abuser and so, one could argue that Scum never disclosed any of her injuries to Stephen because she was either protecting Johnny or she was feeling the shame of being a victim of this violence. Nope. No sale, I’m not buying that. In the first screenshot, we see Stephen talking about how Scum insisted upon he and Jerry (the only two present aside from she and Johnny) that Johnny had kicked her. Continued to insist and, like I said before, she will repeat herself until she gets the response she wants (or gets distracted by something else). She was so quick to yell out to Stephen and Jerry to be her witnesses and Stephen even presented himself to agree with her. Even back in 2014, she was trying to plant the seeds of Johnny being an abuser and she was sharing this to members of his staff. Stephen was still Johnny’s assistant when the divorce/tro happened, so what happened between 2014 to 2016 to make her stop going to him with this false narrative? Was it that she thought this ‘kick’ (it was a tap on her butt from Johnny’s foot, my gf and I do shit like that to each other all the time, calm down Brenda) was strong enough evidence to convince them of her point of view, and everything else after that she didn’t have them bear witness to? (because none of it happened).

Okay now we’re going to move to March 2015 and Australia, namely the incident of Johnny’s finger getting sliced down to the bone, as recounted by Malcolm  Connolly

Malcolm had seen Scum throw objects before, interesting coz Scum (and her party) has accused Johnny of throwing things all about all of the time. She’s again projecting her own behaviour onto him because she’s the perfect abuser. Also, wow, how dare you hurt his perfect fucking face? And then tell him that you love him? She is disgusting.

They immediately came up with a way to cover for Scum because it would create extremely bad publicity for her. Or could it be that, as a man, Johnny was afraid to come forward as a victim of violence because no one would believe him because that’s exactly what’s happening right now. Fake feminists will spout shit like ‘men can’t be abused’ and will blindly believe Scum purely because she’s a woman. The idea of a man being abused is not a part of the accepted mainstream perspective and Johnny was undoubtedly shamed into silence, like so many other victims (regardless of gender) are. It’s an antiquated view that isn’t based in any facts and it’s keeping other male victims silent to protect this idea of men being always strong and to be anything else is pathetic.

Let’s jump ahead to when the shit really hit the fan - March 2016, this is when the allegations began to leak and Johnny was finally cutting himself free of Scum. The following are highlights from the statement of Trinity Esparza.

Hello to Miss Trinity who is an impartial witness, I think this is definitely worth taking note of. Especially when you compare it to who The Sun relied on for their witness statements- 8 people, including Scum herself, who all have a personal connection to her. People who are clearly her friends and have an emotional connection to this case. Trinity is the kind of witness we have been waiting for.

Okay, so the phone throwing incident, which led to the fantastical, moving bruise on Scum’s face, occurred on May 21st of 2016. We’ve all seen it by now because she walked around with it on display for sympathy/pity when she was going to court to apply for that temp restraining order (which was denied, never forget that fact). One would assume that it was visible to the press that day because there was no makeup was on her face. So how come the bruise wasn’t visible closeup four days after the injury supposedly occurred?

Here we have the magical, fantastical, moving bruise - welcome her to the stage, six days after the impact allegedly occurred. This is six days after Rocky took those closeup photos of the injury (the photos they took immediately after Johnny’s alleged ‘temper tantrum’ that left a path of destruction through the apartment... which four separate cops failed to find any trace of).

And here we have some more irrefutable evidence, video surveillance that is time/date stamped. I would like to note that Trinity points out Johnny left the night of the 21st and did not return, so Scum’s bruise only beginning to appear to Trinity on the 27th isn’t due to Johnny returning to abuse her some more. He was entirely gone.

Rocketman returns, clearly Scum was in some kind of relationship with him before Johnny left (emotional affairs are just as real/damaging as a sexual affair).

Wow. Read this paragraph and really think about what kind of twisted fuck Scum is. She has friends at People magazine, a direct line to the press so that she can control how the story comes out.

More of the Rocketman, just enjoying his time in the penthouse owned by Johnny, the penthouse he was forced to flee after continued abuse from his lying wife. It clearly was something she/they were trying to hide because he was only dropping by late at night when Johnny was away. Please note that Scum and Mollusc were publicly dating each other in 2016, online articles place their relationship as ‘beginning’ (I would say beginning to be public would be a more truthful way of putting it) in May of 2016. The exact same month when she began publicly accusing Johnny of abuse. So that’s a nice bit of overlapping there... and by nice, I mean gross and making no fucking sense.

I am really grateful for all of the reblogs and interaction, let’s keep fighting for the truth.

[bellesque]

EEP! I’ve been waiting for reqs to open since I syarted following you a few weeks ago! HOORAY! How about a one-shot where Tom is nervous about his first show of Betrayal but his gf helps him and supports him through it? And maybe they can celebrate after the show with some fluff and smut? Gracias and happy b-day 😄

Opening Night

(Tom Hiddleston x Reader)

Read on my AO3.

Summary:

Tom’s a little nervous about Betrayal’s opening night, and as his girlfriend, you’re more than happy to help him through it - and celebrate with him at the end.

Rating: Mature (wow a first, not E)

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings/Tags: FLUFF, Pillow Talk, Smut, Tom Hiddleston yes he gets his own warning

A/N: The theatre enthusiast in me will always be a little sad that I never got to see this show but hey that’s what fanfiction is for right? Enjoy! (and again in case people get confused my birthday was a WHILE ago hehe)

TOM’S RUNNING LATE.

Not that you’re worried. Or that you blame him. From what your boyfriend’s told you, tech week has been significantly stressful and hectic. As Betrayal’s opening night inches closer, Tom has been all kinds of all over the place as of late.

It’s heartwarming to see him put so much love and effort into the production. Just as he does in every other aspect of his life.

You check the wall clock in the kitchen, wondering if it’s a better idea to leave dinner out on the table or keep it for the meantime. You know he’ll be hungry when he gets home, and you don’t exactly want to serve him cold chicken. You send him a quick text asking where he is, and hear his text notification from outside the door.

It opens with a quiet click, and Tom grins at you as he steps inside. “Just arrived,” he says, holding up his phone. “Sorry, darling, we were running late tonight. There were a few points we really needed to get right.” He gives you a chaste peck on the lips and then another on your forehead.

“I figured.” You head back into the kitchen and take out two plates as Tom makes for the bedroom. “Rehearsal was okay?”

“Alright,” he calls. “We hit a few snags with the sound, but that’s what tech week is for, isn’t it?” He’s pulling on a white shirt when he steps into the kitchen with you. As you set his place at the table, he wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Come shower with me,” he whispers.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you can’t help the giddy smile that spreads across your lips. You giggle as he presses a kiss to the base of your neck. Just when you’re about to turn around, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you laugh at his sheepish expression. “Someone’s hungry,” you tease.

Tom gets a teasing glint in his eye. “For—”

“Some chicken, I hope,” you shoot back, raising an eyebrow. Tom laughs, that adorable peal with his eyes crinkling and his tongue poking out between his teeth.

After dinner and clean-up, you and Tom take a shower—together, as he so kindly asked. Once you settle in your pajamas, the pair of you climb into bed.

You expect him to fall asleep right away; after all, it’s been a long day for him. So it surprises you when he falls back against his pillows, wiping a hand down his face and sighing.

You know that sigh. It’s the one that comes out when his mind is running a mile a minute. When he’s got a lot of thoughts, but somehow nothing to say. You study his face and you prop yourself on your side, your head resting on your elbows. “Hey.”

Tom glances at you. “Hi, darling.” He smiles briefly.

A pause. You reach out and pluck his hand that fiddles with his beard away from his face. “Penny for your thoughts, mister?”

He laces your fingers together and brings your intertwined hands to his lips, brushing them against your knuckles. “Just about the show,” he answers, resting your hand on the spot above his heart.

The steady beat of it doesn’t fool you, though. It’s not unlike him to try and brush off his nerves, make it seem like it’s no big deal so that it doesn’t worry you. “You know you can talk to me,” you say gently. “Safe space. Always. We can share the burden, Tom.”

He sighs, his thumb drawing circles over your hand. “Opening nights are always… you know, the critics will be there, you don’t know how the audience will react, generally speaking. You can only guess how people will like it. If people will like it.”

“They will,” you reassure him.

“I hope so.” He exhales again. “There’s also the concern of whether or not they’ll be able to follow it, if we’ve presented it in a clear way.”

“I’m sure everyone knows it’s in reverse chronological order.”

Tom glances at you with a reminiscent grin on his face. “Remember when we watched The Last Five Years?”

You give him a playful shove. “That’s different. You’re telling two stories in reverse order from each other.”

“Not as different as you might think.”

You hum. “Well, it’s very likely people who are coming to the show have a good idea of what to expect. Done their research and all that. And hey, that’s not your problem, right? If they don’t get it. You’re there to perform, to bring Robert to life.”

“Darling, you know—ah, but that’s actually another thing, see. Robert. His character. You know with Pinter, there’s a lot said in the unsaid. Got to make sure the pauses, silences, it all has to speak without speaking. If the tone isn’t right, even in those pauses, the integrity of the scene is, well, in a way, compromised. There’s not much to go on, so it’s a big job for the actor. Everything needs to have that emotional weight. Purposeful, you know? Even if it’s Charlie and Zawe’s scene. Can’t lose that emotional momentum, or else those big impactful moments don’t land right. Er—darling?”

You’ve gone quiet beside him, letting him speak so freely from the heart. Seeing his passion, the depth of his thought for this role, fills you with admiration and affection. “I’m listening,” you promise, at the same time he says, “I should stop talking about it.”

“No!” You tighten your grip on his hand. Tom squeezes back. “No, please, I love that you can share this with me. I love hearing you talk about theatre like this. I do,” you reassure, laughing goodnaturedly at his half-skeptical face. “I’m glad you’re talking to me about it. Things are always less daunting after you say them out loud.”

“That’s true, isn’t it?” His eyes are soft when they’re locked on yours. He shifts, lying on his side to face you, and you lay your head back down against your pillow, arm tucked under your chin. “You do know how to cure a man’s stage fright.”

“You? Stage fright?” He chuckles when you wrinkle your nose. “Impossible.”

“More likely than you think, love.”

You shift forward to kiss him sweetly; just a short one, you think, only he deepens it and pulls you closer by the nape of your neck. You pull away slightly breathless, see Tom’s eyes scanning every inch of your face, and you stroke his cheek. “Okay. Bedtime. Tech week isn’t over, in case you forgot.”

Tom groans as he rolls onto his back, and you pat his pectoral. “Absolutely grueling,” he mutters.

“You’ll be fine, big booty.”

Tom twists to face you, hand sliding over your waist. “Now if you say it like that, I don’t think sleep is in the cards for the both of us—”

“Sleep.”

 --

“Hey. You’ve got this, okay?”

You cup a hand around your boyfriend’s jaw, tiptoeing to reach up and plant a kiss on the opposite cheek. “You’re ready. You’re gonna do great.”

He takes your hand, kisses the inside of your wrist. “Meet me at the stage door?”

“As your number one fan amongst your many other number one fans,” you grin. “Now go. Do your thing. Break a leg, big booty.”

Tom leans down to plant a real kiss on your lips. “I love you,” he murmurs when he pulls away. “I don’t know where I’d be without you, darling.”

“Backstage doing pre-show ritual things, now go!”

Giving him a gentle push and with his pleasant, uplifting laughter ringing in your ears, you watch Tom disappear into the theatre.

You’re so proud of him. Always have been, always will be. Everything you’ve said to him, every encouragement, affirmation—you meant it every single time. He’s talented at the same time extremely grounded, and he deserves to be reminded of his capabilities when he’s unable to remind himself.

You take your seat, Playbill in hand, and after a few idle minutes of scanning its contents and watching people file into the theatre, the lights dim and the curtain rises.

All throughout the performance, you watch in rapt attention. Only after the show is over and curtain call starts do you realize your brows have been knit the entire time. Tom takes his bow with a splitting grin on his face, and a few tears spring to your eyes. You’re so proud of him and the cast. The success of the night. Opening night. You cheer.

When you go out to stage door, you don’t come up front; instead you hang back, a little ways away from the crowd, and watch as the cast wave, sign Playbills, and take photos. You love seeing Tom in his element. Riding the silent high of a great performance.

His eyes scan the crowd until they land on you, and there’s an unmistakable twinkle in those baby blues. You light up, giving him a wide grin and a thumbs up, and he smiles back at you.

A private smile that seems to say, We’ll celebrate later.

 --

Dinner with the cast and crew is nice. Zawe and Charlie are welcoming and warm, and it’s not awkward for you to hang back and observe while Tom floats from circle to circle like a social butterfly.

But every so often, he casts a burning, wanting look your way.

No one else notices. No one else can see the clandestine and seductive I want you he says so loudly with his eyes. It’s reserved for you, and only you—and a thrill shoots down your spine.

You’ll have him later. Right now, you want him to bask in his moment to kick off Betrayal’s run right.

But damn, the way he looks at you weakens your resolve bit by bit.

He’s posing for a photo with his cast mates, and after the camera clicks Tom politely excuses himself and makes his way towards you.

“There’s my lady.” He kisses you on both cheeks. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am,” you respond. He’s always been subtle with his emotions, but to you, it’s clear as day how excited and elated he is. “But you should get back.”

“Come with me,” he says, keeping your hand in his.

“I couldn’t—it’s your night—”

“And I’m celebrating it with the woman I love together with everyone else here. Ah, Peter—”

Tom moves to shake a crew member’s hand, tugging you along by your intertwined fingers. He doesn’t let go of you the rest of the night. Instead you find yourself linked at his side. When you occasionally pull away his hand rests on the small of your back. You’re a part of his world; he actively makes sure of it.

“Are you coming to the after party?” a portly woman asks the pair of you.

You look at Tom in confusion—isn’t this the after party?—but he gives her an apologetic smile. “I’ve got plans with this one.” He raises your entwined hands.

You’re not exactly comfortable keeping him from the festivities when he should be a part of it, so you open your mouth to protest. “Tom—”

The woman chuckles, cutting you off. “Must be nice to be in love, hmm? See you tomorrow then!”

You poke his side. “Why’d you say no to the after party?”

“There’s only one after party I want to attend.” He leans in conspiratorially. “And there’s only one woman I want in attendance.”

He pulls away, eyes darkening at your flushed cheeks. He glances at your lips. “Do you want to come?”

And like a switch, your dirty brain turns on.

“When?”

“Now.”

You and Tom rush through your goodbyes as respectfully and as fast as two aroused humans possibly can. After a few more photos and a couple final victory hugs, you and he are finally on the way home.

Part of you expects that as soon as the front door closes, you’d get straight to it, kissing and groping like your lives depended on it. You’re ushered in first, and Tom quietly closes the door behind him.

And you both stand there.

“What a night, huh?” you say as you shuck off your coat. Bundling it up in your arms, you beam at him. “Happy opening, love.”

He strides towards you, and when he reaches you his hands run up and down your bare shoulders. “Thank you. Truly, darling. For always believing in me. Supporting me. Loving me. I mean it when I say I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

And then he’s kissing you. Delicately, slowly, like he has all the time to explore your mouth. The coat in your arms falls to the floor as your fingers find their way into his hair. The heat that once simmered underneath the surface begins to bubble and boil, your kisses becoming more frantic.

He trails his lips down your neck, and then he’s planting a line of kisses around your jaw. You manage to find your lost voice and gasp out, “Bedroom?”

He lifts you up and you squeal in surprise, his large hand cupping your butt. He lays you on the bed with a strong sort of tenderness and his mouth closes over yours again. The feel of his hard length against your stomach has you all types of flustered, and you sloppily try to take off his sweater.

Tom takes over, peeling off his clothing and sliding down the straps of your camisole. You sigh when you feel his mouth over your nipple, giving a tug at his hair that makes him growl. As soon as you’re both naked, bared to each other, he slides a hand between your legs, slipping a finger into you with ease.

“You don’t know how hard it was for me to control myself,” he husks, hitting a spot inside you that makes you inhale sharply. “All I wanted to do was bring you home, party be damned.”

“Tom,” you sigh, eyelids fluttering as you fold around him. “Well, we—hah—we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” he murmurs, kissing your throat, “the perfect celebration. Oh, darling, I love you.”

Your hand somehow finds its way down and you begin stroking him. Both your hips move into each other’s hands in sync, breathing becoming labored, as he whispers against your neck and your fingers tangle in his hair. His fingers find your clit and you moan.

You wanted to be patient, draw this out—but you can’t. You need him. To feel him fill you, your every space and secret corner.

You guide Tom into you. Your pace is slow, controlled and measured, until you begin the crescendo to release. Tom kisses you fiercely, his hands roaming every inch of your skin, as he pounds into you until your bodies meld as one.

He thrusts a few more times, hard and purposeful, and you explode in shattering release.

He follows soon after, one hand braced above you, his eyes shut as he chases after his own pleasure. You rock your hips against his, coaxing, and them he cums with a shuddering breath.

There are no words that can articulate your adoration and affection for this man looming above you, his face slack with the pleasure of release, so you attempt to convey it with a searing kiss. He responds with equal fervor, his hands brushing your hair as you both come down from your high.

Moments later, you’re curled up at his side, slightly panting but entirely satisfied. Tom’s fingertips trail over your spine absently, pressing his nose into your hair from time to time.

“I am,” you start to say, breaking the comfortable silence, “so proud of you. You were great tonight. Everyone loved it.”

“Thank you, love. For your undying fidelity,” he says, switching his voice to the familiar antihero you love. You laugh against him, sitting up.

“The night is still young, you know.”

He strokes your arm. “Is it?” he teases.

“Mmhmm.” You swing a leg over him, your lips latching onto his throat before you whisper, “If you think the afterparty’s over, you’re wrong, my love—we’re just getting started.”

[amphtaminedreams]

A/W 2020 Fashion Month: Before Vogue Went Blank

Hi to anyone reading,

I’m sorry this post is so late! I really have no excuse apart from all my mental energy being taken up by shooting and editing my Euphoria lookbook up until now and me being too much of a lazy, nap-loving twat to face the mammoth task of a fashion month review; honestly, by the time it’s done, it’s like a dissertation-level amount of characters, so let’s say the final push to get this out is in sympathy with all my 3rd year friends I started uni with finishing their ACTUAL dissertations.

Things have got scary since I originally started saving the photos for this post, and the world has been turned upside down. In response to the COVID-19 pandemic, the likes of which have not been seen since the Spanish Flu, Italian Vogue’s April cover was blank. As I’m writing this, 26,000+ people have died of coronavirus in Italy, the worst affected country behind the U.S in terms of sheer numbers ( though quick update: as I post this, I’m pretty sure our incompetent prick of a PM has made sure we’re up there too). Proportionally, the actual death rate is even higher, along with a handful of other European countries. There have been some complaints made about the cover and it’s supposed “lack of imagination”; all I know is that in a country whose death toll accounts for 10% of worldwide coronavirus deaths, something of a visual silence feels appropriate. 

That being said, for me, writing is one of the only things giving me a sense of purpose right now. Yeah, surprise surprise, working in a grocery store isn’t all that fulfilling. Who would’ve thought it? So what better time to reflect on a time when all the rich people of the world were going about their lives as usual and sitting front row at fashion week rather than crying on Instagram live to their millions of followers about how trapped they feel in their 10 bedroom mansions.

I’ve got to say, this year’s A/W offerings were a lot better than I expected, mostly due to the fact that I’m not generally a big fan of winter fashion; it’s hard to be disappointed given my preconceptions! There’s only so many knits and coats and jeans you can see before it begins to get a bit tiring, and I expected that to be reflected in the presentations. Fortunately, even the brands which are known for their bohemian, Coachella-esque collections generally managed to translate that into something recognisable and consistent on the runway whilst actually being weather appropriate. Of course, there were a few disappointments-I’m sure if I say one of them begins with D, you can guess which brand I’m talking about-but that was more than made up for by the standouts. Gucci in particular was my 2013 Tumblr wet dream and the Moschino show was what I can only describe as a live continuation of Sofia Coppola’s Marie Antoinette, though I’ll stop with my praise there and wait til I get to actually reviewing before I go overboard with kissing Alessandro Michele’s ass. And on that note, in chronological order, I’ll get one with the reviews! First up, Acne:

Continuing on a winning streak when it comes to catering to my personal preferences (if someone tries to tell me designers don’t care about my personal preferences I’m going to whack out that “just found out the world doesn’t revolve around me, shocked and upset” Marina Diamandis tweet), Acne once again channels futuristic hippy commune living in a dystopian wasteland. I know, those are very specific personal preferences

I love the shredded hems and the burnt velvet, the rawness of it all, and the baroque/your-nan’s-wallpaper patterns are actually a surprisingly nice touch. I imagine if Giselle from Enchanted had to make her dresses out of a thrifty goth’s curtains rather than an upper-middle-class New Yorker’s, they’d look something like this collection. You’ve even got the odd bit of classic fresh Scandi tailoring in there with the oversized coats and blazers which holds it back from being a bit TOO flea market. Plus, the renaissance painting detailing on the black leather-look coat is a stunning detail as well; I’m so glad it seems this trend is here to stay, why wouldn’t I want random nude bodies all over my clothes? 

As for the styling, I can’t get enough of the tousled hair. As an eternally tired person who can't be arsed to pick up a brush most of the time, I feel represented. Along with the outfits, it says “I’m an art student/transient painter in the 70s living in a city loft who smokes a lot of weed and does acid on the regular” and that is a life worth manifesting.

Alberta Ferretti was dreamy, and a perfect example of how to translate the bohemian aesthetic of their S/S show to A/W. Somehow despite the furs, ruffles (pussy-bows under tailored jackets and knits/generally heavier pieces always looks really chic imo), tulle, metallic tapestry style prints and chunky jewellery, it all still looks very effortless, like a natural continuation of what we saw last summer; the typically masculine structure of the oversized suits with the ornate patterns and the accessories lends to the careful navigation along the line where maximalism and minimalism meet, the looks as practical as they are decorative. Picture it: you work some high-flying, powerful job in the city, commute on a motor cycle and roll up in one of these suit sets. This collection is for the edgy businesswoman who is completely comfortable telling all the twattish males she works with where to stick it and I want to be her. 

The evening gowns are, of course, stunning too. In this analogy where I am a powerful businesswoman and not a pushover who works at a grocery store right now and only beefs with rude customers, I would be wearing one of them to the boujie work Christmas party. The ruffled dresses remind me of something Valentino would put out with the colour palette and the ruffles, and whilst we’re on the topic of colour palettes, this one is beautiful. The lilac and hot pink is SO right.

Though predictable, Alessandra Rich is just as much of a treat as usual, the first brand you’d go to if you were styling a throwback it-girl, Chanel Oberlin in Scream Queens if it took place 30 years earlier. Reminiscent of an amalgamation of vintage Chanel and Versace, there are so many cute details I love here, from the white tights with the black heels and the double breasted blazers to the gold chainlink belts and the pearls. The tartan suits with the shoulder padding are very Heathers, the prints the best of your mum’s 80s wardrobe, and nobody else out there is doing bows as well as this; these are the outfits that prissy bitch wears in the cartoons of my childhood that turn out to actually be quite good fashion inspo 15 years later, Trixie Tang from Fairly Odd Parents I’m looking at you. 

This girl was the blueprint. 

I think someone like Lilly Collins or Daphne Groeneveld would be an ideal fit for any of these looks, or Lana Del Rey if she wanted to stop serving us middle-aged suburban soccer mom and took us back to those H&M ad campaign days. Lana stans please don’t come for me for saying that, I am one of you; I say this because I love her. It’s all altruistic. 

Whilst I admittedly didn’t love it as much as last summer’s, I really enjoyed the Alexander McQueen collection too, plus I had a better idea of what to expect this time round; no, we’re not gonna get a repeat of the Plato’s Atlantis show but we do always get some beautiful pieces. Again, like with Alberta Ferretti, this seems like a natural continuation of what we saw in the summer, just with adjustments made for the colder, darker, and altogether moodier months. A/W being the gothier older sister of S/S, it seems right that a lot of the looks turn their back on the ethereal, almost fairy-like feel of what we saw before and embrace the vampier side, reds and blacks (the ultimate Bratz Rock Angels colour combination), plenty of dramatic structures and formidable suit sets. It’s punk but it’s classy, and even with the lighter pieces, we’ve got the grunge inspired harnesses on top to contrast with the elegance and effectively, toughen the whole look up, something Gucci does well too. 

The patterned suits with the clunky boots in particular are very cool and I need a gun metal grey heart detailing harness, but undoubtedly the MOMENT of this collection is Adut Akech in what appears to be a silver chainmail dress. She looks like an Amazonian goddess, and whilst I could never dream of pulling something like that off myself, I could happily admire her in it for hours.

There wasn’t much to get excited about at Altuzarra. The collection was very elegant for sure and the feathered belts are cute but it was all quite pedestrian and nothing new-the only detail I really like is the cut out on the second dress from the left, 3rd row down.

As for Anna Sui:

I’m not altogether sure why I wanted to review it. A lot of the outfits as a whole are a bit messy, and not in that avant-garde, expensive-looking Margiela kind of way, just in a “how many fabrics can we possibly get on this model” kind of way. Plus, the styling seems weirdly outdated-a lot of the jewellery looks like the kind of thing you’d see if you searched “gothic choker” on Ebay and ordered the results from low to high, and the makeup and hair in particular is very 2012 Tumblr fashion blogger. Backcombed hair and red lipstick? We’ve got a Zoella thumbnail on our hands.

When the collection did go down the bohemian route though (and when that route wasn’t a failed attempt at what Etro does a lot better), there were a few nice pieces and prints. I mean you really can’t go wrong with a teal fur trimmed coat.

Ashish, on the other hand, took their aesthetic from a similar era and did it a lot more creatively and kookily; this collection looks a lot more deserving of being on a runway. The prints are so loud and costume-y that at times the garments risk looking like something you’d wear at a decades themed dress up party, but they’re saved by understated and much more commercial silhouettes, plus some gorgeous hair and make up. On the whole, very groovy, unintentional disco queen, despite the few risks that didn’t quite pay off.

Next is a brand I always look forward to. In the words of Myrtle Snow:

BALENCIAGA!

Seriously though, if any brand knows how to blend costume and high fashion, it’s them. They take over-the-top, almost absurd silhouettes and turn them into theatre. This year we’re taking it in the direction of Phantom of the Opera, I guess? Dracula? The Woman in Black? An off-broadway production of Harry Potter where Snape is the protagonist? Whatever the direction of the collection is, I live for the dramatics of it all. Demna Gvasalia got these models walkin’ down the runway like they’re members of the Volutri, which is a reference you should all understand given the renaissance Twilight is having online atm.

Straight off the bat, I adore the staging, and all the models are exquisite-the theme of the show was climate change, and I always love when there’s a story behind the presentation of the clothes. I can’t imagine how amazing this must have been to witness in person, though I’m guessing equal parts mystical and intimidating. There are so many things I love here: billowing coats, cinched in waists, the pattens that are sprinkled sparingly in amongst the black, and the bloody shoulder pads that almost run PARALLEL to the model’s necks. This is really a collection that Myrtle Snow would be proud of and brb whilst I get rid of my padlock necklaces in favour of putting whatever meagre amount I can get for them on Depop towards a Balenciaga padlock belt (as if, lol, I don’t even think selling my soul would cover it).

And then there’s Balmain, which isn’t always the fashion critic’s favourite, but which I do tend to like. 

I mean there are some really good takeaways here-though the 80s inspired suit, as wearable as they are, can get a little repetitive, they are staples which here seem to pave the way for Olivier Rousteing to try something new for the brand. The moulded breast plates (reminiscent of the Tom Ford one Zendaya wore though I’m not sure which came first!), for example, along with the Matador-style capes and the flowing silk dresses are the most glamorous incarnation of Lara Croft one can possibly imagine, probably just as equally suited for a Roman goddess as they are for an Assassins Creed style action heroine. And yes, I am aware of the fact that Tomb Raider and Assassins Creed are two separate games, okay!  I just don’t know enough about the visuals of either to firmly plant this collection in the camp of either one, so I’m going down the crossover route with it!

Not to say there weren’t any bad choices-I omitted a good portion of the looks that were shown; there were definitely pieces that I found to be a little tacky, particularly a recurring chain print which has got to be one of my least favourite patterns out there. Overall, though, it’s gonna be the richly coloured art-deco prints, the wet-look boots and the gem-encrusted scorpion brooch which stick with me, so I’ll let it slide. 

Bottega Veneta was very meh; even of the looks I picked out, there are a lot I’m now looking back at and wishing I hadn’t included. Some of the men’s pieces are nice, sure, and I feel like one of those vaguely sick, victorian ghost looking male celebrities everyone obsesses over (Timothée Chalamet and Dane DeHaan I’m looking at you) would make those suits on the second row look fine af, but it’s mostly the womenswear that I’m here for and on this occasion it wasn’t great. A couple of the coats are nice and that’s about it. Like I really had to act as if the tassels weren’t there on a lot of the clothes and go from there because I really don’t like them in this context and if I was to veto looks purely on one of the garments having tassels, there’d be nothing to show or reference when giving my opinion on the show. They were EVERYWHERE. In a summer collection, done right, they can be a nice detail but here they just feel unnecessary and if I’m being honest, are quite ugly. 

Thank god for Brock taking the sour Bottega Veneta tassel taste out of my mouth. Never a let down. Literally, everything they put out sends me into a daze of imagining I’m in some romantic drama wearing one of the pieces, in a man’s idea of “no makeup”, running round in a field looking forlorn and windswept because my ghostly lover has-

Okay, you get the picture. I’ve never read Wuthering Heights, but it goes something like that, right? If not, lets just say envisioning myself in any of these catapults me straight into some period drama where I’m born into wealth and sit by my mansion window looking sad all the time and writing poetry and lusting over some stuffy upper-class man I can’t have and who is probably played by Colin Firth because I’m pretty sure that’s what happens in most of them (about to enrage my future English lit undergraduate sister with that line).

Nobody does modest, muted sexy to such a masterful degree. I mean, when Maison Marigela did face veils I was just mildly afraid, but here they’re subtle enough that they’re quite beautiful and almost other-worldly, acting as some kind of boundary between this world and the past that Brock aims to recapture through its designs-the red lip popping out from underneath is a perfect touch too. I don’t like it AS much as the summer collection but I would say that’s solely on the basis of the more autumn/winter appropriate colour scheme and the heavier fits, which is just a personal preference. I mean, I’m usually not a fan of empire waistlines at all and Brock even manages to make that work.

Burberry this season was a real mixed bag, mostly due to the styling. There are some really gorgeous, London back alley vintage shop looking pieces, especially the 70s style coats, reminiscent of outerwear a slimy record exec would've worn back in the day repurposed by someone like Alexa Chung or Zoe Kravitz or whichever effortlessly cool woman it is we all want to be-also the private boy’s school rugby gear looking shit is classic Burberry and I’m a fan of that, even though it’s not the most inventive or exciting. I just don’t get why there had to be SO much ill-fitting plaid over ill-fitting plaid. Again, like with Bottega Veneta, I thought the menswear was a lot stronger; whilst I wasn’t really wowed by anything, it seemed a lot less forced, whereas a few of the womenswear looks gave me the vibe of a design team desperately grasping onto some ill-conceived ideas of street style and relevancy. 

The design team at Carolina Herrera for example, know their niche. They never try to be something they’re not, always sublimely preppy and pretty and predictable-when it comes to target market, the bag is reliably secured. Laid- back princess dresses never get old for those constantly “summering” in one expensive coastal town or another, for the rich American moms attending charity galas and the Spencer Hastings and Blair Waldorfs of the world; women with glossy hair and fresh faces who act as if they woke up looking like that polished but are actually anal as hell and take 2 hours to get ready and would NEVER, I repeat NEVER, shit in a public toilet. 

Yes, I managed to worm toilet habits into a review of a Carolina Herrera collection. I’m sorry. Enough with the pearl clutching. 

Next is Celine:

I mean, when there are THIS many looks, it’s hard not to find something you like, and though VERY predictable and verging on lazy when you’re putting out the same shit every collection, Celine’s aesthetic is so similar to my own ideal style, it’s hard to be mad at it. That being said, a lot of the pieces, as per usual, came across as cheap YSL knock offs; the overall outfits are cute, but the more you look at the details-it particularly pained me to include a metal bow belt and an ill-fitting velvet skater skirt but I liked the rest of the outfits-the worse it gets. Please, PLEASE someone drive it home to Hedi Slimane, I’m begging you: QUALITY NOT QUANTITY. I get what he’s going for, 70s hipster Jane Birkin is a vision I can very much get behind, but not when it seems to be so rushed.

With the men’s looks, you can get away with it a lot more; when so much of menswear is so plain and unchanging, the slightest hint of Mick Jagger is enough to make a outfit edgy. But even then, I still feel like we’re seeing a load of variations of the same outfit. There are always some pieces that catch my eye, this time round the capes and the velvet blazers, and I would wear most of these things, sure, however I don’t think the combinations SHOULD necessarily look like something I’d personally put together; a runway collection is supposed to be aspirational and cutting edge, not pedestrian (entirely intentional self-drag, lol). Also, side note, the lack of diversity really bothered me. 111 looks and not one of these models has a body type that is naturally achievable for most people. It’s 2020 for fuck’s sake. I’m tired.

SO, let’s liven things up a bit with the Central Saint Martins collection, a breath of fresh air in terms of diversity (though a few more plus-size models would be nice):

As a former University of London student, I hate to heap praise upon them. If you’ve studied in London as well, you’ll know CSM students are ANNOYING. I mean, I’m sure they’re lovely as individuals but you can’t fully understand the meaning of the word pretentious until you’ve seen a group of them at a Uniqlo Tate Late. That being said, they are very good at what they do and I’m so glad that Vogue Runway includes them; this is what Off-White thinks it is, and really it makes sense that a bunch of current fashion students are able to come together to present one of the most experimental and forward-thinking shows of this season. 

And let’s talk about the RANGE. From catsuits worthy of comic book heroes to  dresses Twiggy would’ve worn in a 1960s editorial, every subgenre of fashion has been fully delved into here. Whilst we’ve got the adrogyny of the suits and suspenders combo and kitschy gender-bending co-ords David Bowie would be proud of, at the other end of the scale we’ve also got models walking down the runway dressed like wood nymphs or some other kind of siren-like creatures. There’s looks that wouldn’t be out of place in a Gucci or Come Des Garcons collection but at that same time would be equally at home in a Berlin techno club. 

Honestly, credit where credit’s due-it was a really interesting show and I wouldn’t expect anything less.

Chanel was quite literally the polar opposite of the CSM show. 

Very blah. 

It’s crazy because before you properly get INTO fashion, Chanel is like the epitome of style. And then you do, and you see the runway shows get lazier and lazier (with some exceptions) every year, and you realise that same prestige that had you aware of Chanel at the age of 7 or 8 is literally all that’s keeping the brand going at this point. I’m not saying the collection is flat out ugly, a lot of it’s cute, but you’re CHANEL for fuck’s sake. Yeah, I like the crucifixes but SCALLOPED HEMS!? No. I do NOT recall travelling back in time to witness Primark’s Spring 2013 collection on the runway and I am NOT having it.

It’s not at all surprising that a lot of the time newer brands Charlotte Knowles (above) tend to be more interesting than those more established-and yes that was a Chanel indirect if the transition wasn’t obvious.

With no room to rest on laurels or reputation, everything has to be bolder and smarter and more distinctive and most importantly, has to appeal to its target market with the fervour of an L.A sign spinner. I only found out about Charlotte Knowles because of a Vogue article citing her as Bella Hadid’s new favourite brand to wear, and once I saw the collection, it was clear why; daringly modern, slick, and edgy is both her street style (say what you want about her as a model but her outfit game is unbeaten) and Knowles’ USP to a T. If Dion Lee, Off-White, GCDS and Acne had an orgy, this would be the result, and that is a GOOD compliment.

Next, Chloe:

Not a huge amount to say, to be honest. Low-key, wearable, and cute. Like Emma Roberts’ Nancy Drew if she did an autumn exchange program at the Sorbonne and studied art history, libraries and coffee shops on the weekdays and galleries and protests at the weekend. On reflection, that definitely makes this collection sound more exciting than it is but there are some effortlessly beautiful pieces here. The 4th row in particular is full of stand outs-the vest with the watercolour faces on with the shirt underneath is perfection, and the burgundy suit with the saffron ruffled collar peeking out from underneath is adorable and not at all reminiscent of the Ronald McDonald inspired nightmare that any combination of red and yellow tones should theoretically be.

As for Christian Siriano, I see why people hate it, I really do. I understand that it seems kinda unfair to have it show the same week as Brock and Rodarte and Oscar de La Renta. We’re talking 2 very different kinds of quality here. BUT, at pure face value, his clothes are FUN, plus Coco Rocha will always have a special place in my heart as someone who lived on The Face and America’s Next Top Model and every show that could possibly give me an unhealthy body image ever.

Like are you telling me you wouldn’t wear these dresses to a party!? Live a little. They just need tailoring...which ideally would be done BEFORE the model’s walking down the runway in it but...you know...can’t have it all.

Christopher Kane is a show I always look forward to.

I would say his designs are the only thing that make geometry look fun but I’m going to expose myself and admit that would be a lie because I actually found geometry really fun. Trigonometry was my shit, lol.

He is a designer who perfectly demonstrates that juggling interseasonal consistency and taking risks can be done. There’s always something DIFFERENT about his collections, fresh and subtly experimental. There are occasionally a few misses, sure, but I’d rather that than for a brand to keep playing safe, plus he never goes too far in the opposite direction either; no going weird for the sake of weird. I don’t like it AS much as the summer collection but it’s mostly because of the more muted, autumn/winter appropriate colour palette.

Comme Des Garçons? Too weird?

Never.

Honestly when it comes to a CDG collection, I have to really shift my perspective to appreciate it. I’m not looking at fashion presentation, I’m looking at a moving piece of experimental art. I know, it’s a stretch. But you know you’ll never be bored by one of their shows. Not gonna lie, this specific collection crossed the line into plain ugly a couple of times for me. We had padding so extravagant it looked like several models were walking round with Ikea pillows stuck to their chest and headdresses reminiscent of the kids’ game Headbandz. In amongst that though, we did get some gorgeous veils like the ones seen above and the shoes and socks combo is actually quite wearable.

I’d say Dilara Findikoglu is the cut-off point after which things get a little too avant-garde for my personal taste, and it hovers over that cut-off point flawlessly; despite the other-worldly elements of her collections, they remain somewhat grounded by nods towards conventional fashion that allow the beauty, be it inner or outer, of the wearer to shine through. Comme Des Garcons garments undeniably have character but they tend to swallow up any trace of the individual underneath, whereas the character of Dilara Findikoglu garments seamlessly merges with the wearer and in turn elevates both to something transcendent and ethereal. If the Pussycat Dolls got transported into a rugged, post-apocalyptic future, they’d scrape together these outfits to perform in, I know it; the energy of the collection, with the body jewellery and the frayed cut outs and the chalk white faces, is very warrior princess, just as raw and intimidating as it is hot as fuck, and I want that energy in my life. Along with a Dilara belt, of course. I would wear her name like a badge of honour anytime she wants. Dilara, pls pls let me be part of your tribe. PLEASE.

Anyway, this is where I thought I’d cut things off, so as to end on a positive note. You know what that means: Dior is coming up. I feel bad knowing my first post was defending Maria Grazia and yet here I am now, looking at the bar down on the floor, but I mean, you never know; maybe girl is doing this on purpose and one day she’s gonna come out with a Gucci level quality show like a phoenix from the ashes.

If you got this far, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING even if you’re just here for the pics. Part 2 will be covering some of my most anticipated shows from Elie Saab, Fendi and Etro to Gucci and Moschino, Miu Miu and Marc Jacobs, and everything in between. Yes, the shitty ones too.

I’m plowing through all the material as quick as I can so I hope to get the next post up really soon, and yes-you can count on the overwhelming sense of needing to be productive pushing me into fulfilling that statement. 

Thanks again and I hope you’re well!

Lauren x