#Smith & Cult

[bluestranger]

just finished silent hill 3 and it was so scary (especially towards the end) that i had to refer to a guide to get through it. stanley coleman is the creepiest video game character of all time and he doesn't even have any screentime. truly incredible.

[sweetdreamsjeff]

The Rebel: Patti Smith

--I bring Tim Buckley's unreleased demo of the old folk tune ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ for Patti, and she talks about how the singer/songwriter was a favourite of Robert Mapplethorpe’s back in the early Brooklyn days, and chuckles when she recalls how she and her first partner in artistic crime would neck like high school kids to the Goodbye And Hello album. She was delighted when Jeff Buckley stopped by the recording sessions and added a high, ghostly vocal part to ‘Beneath The Southern Cross’, and even more delighted when he raced home and returned to the studio with an essrage, an Egyptian instrument he used to texture the track ‘Fireflies’.--

---

Ben Edmonds, MOJO, August 1996

To R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe, she is "one of the premier artists of my lifetime – I’ve blindly stolen from her for years." To Bob Dylan, she is "still the best, you know." She is one of rock ‘n’ roll’s true originals, and on her return to the fray after eight years of joy and tragedy lived out of the public eye, Patti Smith grants Ben Edmonds the most revealing interview of her career.

PATTI SMITH IS IN FULL SWAGGER, WORKING THE ROXY Theatre stage in LA with relaxed authority. She takes the stage alone, wearing a shapeless warm-up jacket with hood tightly framing her face, to deliver a fiery reading of ‘Piss Factory’. With each succeeding song she adds band members until her musical complement is complete. Left-hand man Lenny Kaye and drummer Jay Dee Daugherty are Patti Smith Group confederates, while bassist Tony Shanahan has played with Kaye and John Cale (and backed Patti on some solo dates last autumn). This core trio is augmented by Patti’s 23-year-old poetry protege Oliver Ray on rhythm guitar and — seated stage left behind impenetrable shades and cradling his guitar like some old CBGB's bluesman — Tom Verlaine.

Smith has a couple of wild cards up her sleeve as well. She introduces Bob Neuwirth as "the person who encouraged me to sing and gave me my first start," after the legendary personage – Bob Dylan road companion, Jim Morrison babysitter, painter, filmmaker, composer of ‘Mercedes Benz’ for Janis Joplin – has sung a typically wonderful song called ‘I Don't Think Of Her’. "Bobby has a new CD out [Look Up on Watermelon Records] on which I appear," Patti announces. "It's available almost nowhere."

Her son Jackson, 13, appears plugged in and joins the troupe for a romp through – are you ready? – ‘Smoke On The Water’. Jack and guitar stand nose to nose with the amp, noodling noisily as Lenny Kaye sings Deep Purple's stirring lament for the tragic death by fire of recording equipment. Mom makes the most of her vocal cameo, belting out "Fire in the sky-eee" in the most godawful screech you've ever heard. It's a small glimpse of what the future might have held had Patti chosen to become the singer of Blue Oyster Cult (for whom she wrote songs) instead of setting off on her crusade to save the soul of rock'n'roll with The Patti Smith Group.

The band has a homemade, slightly ragtag quality that reminds this audience member of nothing so much as the earliest Patti Smith Group when it consisted of Patti, Lenny and Richard Sohl. That trio "toured" California in 1974 to "promote" ‘Piss Factory’, and you felt like you were watching something invent itself right before your eves. This mini "tour" follows almost exactly the same path, and once again you feel like you're watching something in the exhilarating process of becoming.

They attack a fair number of familiar songs – ‘Ghost Dance’, ‘Rock'N'Roll Nigger’, ‘Dancing Barefoot’ (although, curiously, nothing from Dream Of Life) – with gusto. The 10 shows opening for Bob Dylan last winter seem to have jump-started this aggregation's chemistry, and they're now also capable of moments of transcendence that rival anything Patti's bands have attained in the past. ‘About A Boy’, her meditation on the loss of Kurt Cobain, has grown from humble acoustic beginnings into an oceanic noisefield than tonight is staggering. And their ‘Wicked Messenger’ ranks with the great rock rearrangements of Dylan songs. It's a treat that such a thing remains possible in 1996.

The small acoustic shows and guest spots she's done sporadically over the past year have been tentative in tone and occasionally awkward. She is not – nor does she have the slightest inclination to be – the punk tornado who ripped through this room 20 years ago, when the Roxy was LA's premier showcase club, hosting legendary engagements by Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen and Bob Marley, and live recordings by Frank Zappa, Talking Heads, Warren Zevon and others. But she has certainly regained every bit of the belief that the space is hers to command.

The sold-out house is evenly divided between the older soldiers who served in the rock revolution Patti Smith heralded in the early '70s and those who wish they could have been there, having heard their own heroes like Michael Stipe say that were it not for Patti Smith he wouldn't exist. The R.E.M. singer has been all over MTV News this week, quoted as saying that Patti's show at the Wiltern Theatre a few days earlier had been not simply the greatest concert he'd ever seen, but one of the greatest emotional experiences of his life. *

THE PATTI SMITH RESUME: ARRIVED IN NEW YORK FROM New Jersey in 1967 and wrote herself a new identity in concert with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe; wrote plays like Cowboy Mouth with Pulitzer Prize winner Sam Shepard one line at a time, pushing a battered typewriter back and forth across a Chelsea Hotel tabletop in a game of attitude chess; published small press volumes of hallucinogenic verse inhabited by James Joyce, Johnny Ace, Jesus Christ, Harry Houdini, Joan of Arc, James Brown, Georgia O'Keefe, the Paragons and the Jesters, Picasso and Rimbaud and Bob Dylan's dog; wrote poems, profiles and record review reveries for Creem and Rolling Stone; put her big ideas into embryonic practice at her Rock'N'Rimbaud readings accompanied by guitarist Lenny Kaye at St Mark's Church, New York's new poetry nirvana; released ‘Piss Factory’ b/w ‘Hey Joe’ in 1974 on their own Mer Records, now regarded as one of the first shots fired in the punk/indie revolt (though at the time it was a shot barely heard in the next block); released in 1975 a debut album Horses, a parable in spoken word and song for the declaration of self that adolescents itchy to slip their skins will probably respond to for generations to come; sounded a clarion call with her amped-to-the-teeth Patti Smith Group that has been answered only in part by punk rockers, alterna-nerds and riot grrrls; fell from a Tampa, Florida stage in 1977 to a concrete floor 14 feet below, breaking her neck; came out of traction and back into action with ‘Because The Night’, a hit single co-written with Bruce Springsteen, yet always gave equal time to noisy improvisational epics like ‘Radio Ethiopia’ that were unplayable on any radio format (and guaranteed to scare the living piss out of anyone attracted by her Brucie ballad); announced her retirement from public life in the shadow of her biggest-selling album (Wave); and immediately following her biggest concert ever (85,000 in an Italian football stadium on September 10, 1979) quietly married former MC5 guitarist Fred 'Sonic' Smith in 1980, and moved to an unassuming Detroit suburb to raise a family. In the next decade she raised her head above the parapet only once, with her 1988 album Dream Of Life.

Since 1990, Patti has suffered the loss of four of her closest comrades. Her best friend Robert Mapplethorpe was claimed by AIDS. Her piano player (and, after Lenny Kaye, longest-serving musical ally) Richard Sohl succumbed to heart failure. Then in late '94 her husband, soulmate, and hero of so many of her best songs (‘Because The Night’, ‘Frederick’, ‘Dream Of Life’), Fred 'Sonic' Smith, suddenly passed away, a shock compounded by the death of her brother and crew manager Todd Smith only a month later.

The release of a new album, Gone Again, and a limited return to live performance is part of a plan she and Fred had mapped out before his untimely passing. Yet there's no denying that these activities have now become, at least in part, a memorial to all her fallen comrades. This mission was launched in earnest last December when, at the personal invitation of Bob Dylan, she opened 10 of his shows on the East Coast, a pairing he dubbed The Paradise Lost Tour.

"A lot of girls have come along since Patti started," Dylan told a Boston audience the first of many times they duetted on his song ‘Dark Eyes’. "But Patti's still the best, you know." Then he kissed her. *

DRIVING TO PATTI'S HOUSE, I WAS THINKING ABOUT something she had told me recently. The subject was her desire to play only those places where she'd been treated well. I wondered, then, what places this might disqualify.

"Detroit," she said without hesitation. "They've never been that supportive of our work. I don't think Fred got the support from the music community that he was entitled to. The radio stations knew who he was and what he'd done, and they should've tipped their hat to him. I guess I feel somewhat bitter about that. Not for me. I don't care; but it hurt Fred deeply."

Patti will soon be moving back to New York. This move is not unexpected. Detroit was where she came to make her life with Fred. It was his town, his family, his roots, and there's probably no place she can turn here and not be confronted by a reminder of her late husband.

This has got to be especially true of their home, which they bought, furnished, and within which they created a family. Patti and Fred even saved it together, sandbagging the place when torrential rains and a rising lake very nearly flooded them out. Because the family was so reclusive, all sorts of rumours circulated about their domestic refuge. One had them living in a sumptuous lakefront estate, another pictured them in utter sub urban tract home anonymity. Neither turns out to be accurate.

They're not on the lake, though they could most certainly see it if there weren't so many other houses in the way. They live in a normal middle-class neighbourhood where many of the smallish homes sport obvious additions to accommodate expanding families, resulting in houses that are a little too big for their modest plots but never quite big enough to contain all the kids' stuff which litters the porches and short driveways. Yet there's no doubting which is the Smith residence. It's easy to spot, being the only castle on the block. A small castle, to be sure, really no bigger than most of the surrounding homes, but a towered and turreted castle all the same.

Seen from the insight, the tower contains the winding staircase that leads to the upper floor. The house is sparsely though comfortably furnished, in casual boho. The usual family stuff is posted on the fridge and scattered about; handmade birthday and Mother's Day cards, postcards, school meeting notices. If it weren't for the guitars and amplifiers in the living room, you'd never know this was the lair of musicians. Where you might expect to find a portrait of some revered family elder hangs a picture of honorary uncle Allen Ginsberg.

Once past the idea of amps in the living room, the closest we get to rock'n'roll excess is an extravagant selection of teas. Oliver Ray brews some camomile for Patti, whose stomach is acting up.

At 48, Patti Smith's hair is unashamedly lashed with gray and worn in simple braids. Her interview demeanour is pretty much as it's always been. She considers each query carefully and answers at length, not looking at her interviewer but staring at some private point beyond the opposite wall, a safe place she always returns to. Though Patti is never at a loss for a forcefully expressed thought or opinion, whenever the conversation touches on her late husband – which is frequently – her voice falters and she has to bear down hard on her words to get them out.

I bring Tim Buckley's unreleased demo of the old folk tune ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ for Patti, and she talks about how the singer/songwriter was a favourite of Robert Mapplethorpe’s back in the early Brooklyn days, and chuckles when she recalls how she and her first partner in artistic crime would neck like high school kids to the Goodbye And Hello album. She was delighted when Jeff Buckley stopped by the recording sessions and added a high, ghostly vocal part to ‘Beneath The Southern Cross’, and even more delighted when he raced home and returned to the studio with an essrage, an Egyptian instrument he used to texture the track ‘Fireflies’.

You find yourself wanting to somehow crack the fog and get her to smile. During the second of our two interviews, conducted at her Michigan home, it is her eight-year-old daughter who unintentionally provides the cue. Patti is expounding on the divine bliss of parenthood when Jesse, who's been yakking to a friend in the other room, suddenly calls out, "Mommy, can I have a cellular phone?"

"No," Patti immediately shoots back, rolling her eyes at the cosmic timing of this interruption, and then dissolving into the best laugh I'd heard from her in a very long time.

In the words of one of those Irish poets, "the healing has begun." *

This album is unique for you in that it has so many solo songwriting credits.

Fred was giving me guitar lessons. He had taught me some chords, basically so I could write songs. We studied song structure and things I didn't know a whole lot about. He taught me enough on the guitar that, after a lot of practice, I could write simple songs. When he passed away...I just…um… I used to spend a lot of time by myself at night with the acoustic guitar just making up little songs. A lot of the songs on the record – ‘Farewell Reel’, ‘About A Boy’, ‘Raven’, ‘Dead To The World’, ‘Wing’ – were written that way late at night. They're all in waltz-time, 3/4, which is the only time signature we worked on so it's the only one I know.

The version of ‘About A Boy’ you played at the Roxy is already far beyond the album version.

That song has really grown in performance. It's the closest thing to anarchy – controlled anarchy – that we have right now, because we let the song completely open up at the end. I always like having a piece where everyone goes out but then returns. That was the beauty of John Coltrane, and what separated him from the noisemakers and indulgent jerk-offs. He would go out there and stay out there as long as he could, but he always returned. That's what we strive for.

When Kurt Cobain took his life, Fred and I were extremely disturbed about that. Both of us liked his work. We thought it was good for young people. I was happy that there was a new band I could relate to, and looked forward to watching them grow. He had a future. As parents, we were deeply disturbed to see this young boy take his own life. The waste, and the emotional debris he left for others to clean up.

I was also concerned how it would affect young people who looked up to him, or looked to him for answers. I guess that's the danger of looking to anyone else for answers, but I perceived that he had a responsibility. To himself, to the origin of his gifts, to his family, to the younger generation.

So I wrote the song for two reasons. One was as a well wish, even after what he did, that his continuing journey be beautiful. But it was also written with a certain amount of bitterness. The chorus says "About a boy/beyond it all." One way of looking at it is that he's beyond this particular plane of existence. But it's also a wry statement, a frustrated refrain. It relates to my sorrow for the various boys we've lost. Whether it be Jim Morrison or Brian Jones; any of these young, gifted, driven people who do feel they're beyond it all, that they can completely ravage and ruin their bodies or have no sense of responsibility to their position and their gifts. We all were pioneering some kind of freedom, but I don't think what's been done with it is all that constructive.

When you were that age how did you deal with those feelings?

All young people feel sometimes that they can't take it, that they'd rather die than get up out of bed. But there was always something that reminded me, it could be anything. The handiwork of man. I could be feeling totally desolate and then look at a beautiful prayer rug or a Picasso, and that would be enough to make me want to live. That's what other people's work did for me. When I say that The Rolling Stones got me through this, or Bob Dylan got me through that, they did. That in itself is a motivation for working. The act of creation is a beautiful thing. That belongs to the artist; he's got that moment of illumination, when a kernel of an idea erupts and blooms. But after he creates it, it ceases to be his. It's really for other people.

What brought you back to New York to record?

I love Electric Lady, which is where we cut Horses; it's intimate but highly developed. It's right on 8th Street, so you can walk out at three in the morning and there are people on the streets. It's a good energy. I don't require privacy and silence when I'm recording. It's the first recording studio I was ever in. The first time I ever went there was also the first rock'n'roll party I'd ever been to. Jane Friedman invited me to this party for Jimi Hendrix because he'd just opened the studio up. I was so excited because I'd never been in a recording studio before. But when I got there I was too nervous to go in, so I sat on the steps. Then Jimi came up the stairs. He was incredibly beautiful; tall, very... he was Jimi Hendrix, y'know? A great-looking man. But really shy. He came up the stairs and I was sitting there so he sat down next to me and just talked. He asked me why I wasn't going down and I told him I was too nervous. He said, "Me too, I'm too nervous to stay." Then he told me some of the things about the studio, and how he wanted to work on a more global kind of music. He said that he was going to London, but that when he came back he was gonna go up to Woodstock with new musicians and then bring them into Electric Lady to record. But of course he never came back from London... That was a great moment for me. So when Robert Mapplethorpe gave us money to do ‘Piss Factory’, even though it was not much money I had to go to Electric Lady.

The equipment has been updated, but it's got a lot of the same things – the late '60s psychedelic paintings and bad murals of Jimi Hendrix playing right-handed. It didn't really occur to me how cyclic it was until I was in the middle of it. I was standing by myself in the hallway looking at those murals, when I remembered standing in that same spot in 1975 and Robert Mapplethorpe taking a picture of me and John Cale. Lenny came out and stood next to me and said, "Amazing, isn't it?" It was like he could feel what I was feeling. The first time we were back in the studio, just hearing those Lenny guitar tones and Jay on the drums, it was so... from the subconscious. It triggered so many memories.

How was this one as a recording experience?

This album was both joyous and heartbreaking to do. We were 80 per cent done with the record and I had to stop. I couldn't take it any more because... I just really missed Fred. It was so difficult, and I was so emotionally depleted. So we stopped for a while. When we did that little mini-tour with Bob Dylan I was supposed to be finishing the record, but I still couldn't face it. But I got a lot of energy and positive feelings from the Dylan experience, and then we went in and completed the album. Those dates gave me my confidence back.

Do you know what made Bob reach out to you?

What I gleaned from Bob is that he felt it would be good for me to come back out, that he thought people should see me. I wouldn't presume to speak for him, but he has been so highly influential that he knows probably what it tasted like to be influential and then get shuffled around somewhere. I guess he felt I could use some encouragement.

We weren't prepared, but I wanted to do it so badly that we prepared ourselves practically on stage. I think we had about five hours of rehearsal. But all of us had pretty much played together, and we all pooled the things we could do. The first night was pretty shaky, but after that I felt like I was back in familiar territory. My mission on that small tour was to crack all the energy, crack the atmosphere and set the stage for him, to get the night as magic as possible, so that when he hit the stage – 'cos he hits a lot of them – that maybe it would feel a little more special. I think we did a pretty good job and I know that he was happy.

Had you been in touch with him over the years?

No, not really. I met him back in the '70s, before we even had a record deal. It was at the Other End on Bleecker Street in the Village. I was told he was in the audience, so I made a few obscure references that I knew the crowd wouldn't get, but would let him know that I knew he was there. It was kinda presumptuous, but that's the way I was then. I was thrilled that he was there, but I wasn't gonna let him know it. When he came backstage I was kinda snotty. "Any poets around here?" he said, so I said I wasn't into poetry anymore – Poetry sucks. Can you believe I said that? But he was very gracious, and even put his arm around me to have our picture taken. The next week it was in the Soho Weekly News, right on the cover, and seeing that was definitely one of my best moments ever. But it also made me kinda sad, 'cos I knew I hadn't treated him well and I felt like I'd kinda blown it, y'know?

A little while later, I was on 4th Street and I saw him walking toward me. I tried to shrink but he saw me anyway. And he was really nice. He pulled out that picture and said, "Who are these two people? Do you know them?" And he gave me this beautiful smile, just to let me know it was all right. So he's been incredibly generous and understanding toward me from the very beginning.

I've admired Bob Dylan since I was 15 years old; he's been an important part of my life for two-thirds of it now. So to have someone like that give you encouragement is... beyond words. [On the tour] we sang ‘Dark Eyes’ almost every night, and singing with him was just like being in heaven. I was so happy. I kept thinking…sometimes it made me think of Fred, because Fred really liked and admired Bob too. He often said that there were only two people that would be able to pull him out of his self-imposed retirement, Keith Richards and Bob Dylan. He'd say, "Now if Keith or Bob call and want me to play with 'em, I might have to come out." So how could I not answer the call? It was a great experience.

Do you still regard Bob with a fan's awe?

Meeting him again, I can't say I'm in awe of him. The way I relate to him at this point in my life is that he's a man that has a fine presence, a very noble presence. He's an extremely attractive man. When I talk to him I still feel sort of like a schoolgirl, but also like a friend and a colleague.

After Fred passed away, the record I most listened to for solace was Bob's album World Gone Wrong, which is all those great old blues and other songs from the trove of his knowledge. I listened to that almost continuously. Once again he helped me through a difficult time with his music. And then to have him reach out to me as a human being... I'll be forever grateful.

And this gave you the confidence to finish the record.

We'd pretty much recorded everything; most of the vocals on the record are the live vocals. It was just a question of pulling all the threads together and presenting the record. But I just... I just needed time to think about everything. We had pretty much everything cut except the title track ‘Gone Again’, which we did right before we came out here. That was Fred's last music and...um...I just wasn't able to...write the lyrics. And finally I…I marshalled my energies and did it. Lenny had a lot to do with making certain ‘Summer Cannibals’ and ‘Gone Again’ came to light. We had a lot of cassette tapes with Fred playing acoustic guitar or chanting or giving some direction...to me, 'cos he often made tapes like that so I could write lyrics. Lenny had to lovingly piece those songs together.

So many people haven't yet discovered Dream Of Life, which I think is your best album after Horses. People are going to be discovering that album for years.

I hope so, because it's the only real document we have of Fred's range, though it's still only a partial account. It's pretty much his album; I look at Dream Of Life as his gift to me. He wrote all the music, arranged everything, a lot of the song titles, the album title, the concept of the songs, especially ‘People Have The Power’, were all Fred's. I told him we should call it by both our names but he wouldn't. But he had promised me that on this album he would sing on it and we'd put both our names on it. So I was really looking forward... I thought this was going to be a great album because people would see his face, hear him sing, and he was getting interested in performing live again. But...ah...it didn't happen. Which has been the heartbreaking part of making this album for me.

There was one thing released under both your names: the atmospheric piece ‘It Takes Time’ that you did for the Wim Wenders film Until The End Of The World in 1990.

Thank you for remembering that one! I love to hear it, because Fred's reciting poetry. Again, that's almost entirely his piece. Not only did he write the music and some of the poetry, he actually dictated how he wanted me to read my parts. Oh yeah, we had some friction, some healthy friction, in the recording of that song. He was the suggester in the family. He was clearly the boss, although he liked to pretend that he wasn't...

How did you first meet him?

It was March 9, 1976, and we met in front of the radiator at that hot dog place, Lafayette Coney Island, in Detroit. The Sonic Rendezvous Band was opening for us, but I didn't know anything about him. Lenny introduced me to this guy. I heard that his name is Smith, and my name is Smith. We just looked at each other and I was completely taken by him. I had no idea who he was or anything about him until afterwards when Lenny told me. Lenny introduced me to him and said, "He's one of the great guitar players." I said, Perhaps you'll want to play with us tonight. And he said, "Maybe so." Then he left and I asked Lenny if he was really any good, and Lenny said, "The best". So I was playing with him that night, and I had a lot of bravado in those days. I didn't have respect for anybody. But I totally submitted to his reign. He came on the stage and started playing, and after a while I just set my guitar down and let it feed back. I just let him take over because I felt that I had met my match, that I had met the better man.

As I understand it, the original plan you'd developed with Fred called for you to begin re-emerging now anyway.

Yes. This would've happened. It was according to plan. A couple of years after Dream Of Life, Fred wanted us to go out with just a percussionist, Richard Sohl, him and I. It would have been more spoken art, more poetry with them doing interpretive things behind me. Fred really wanted to do that, but then Richard died suddenly. It really broke his heart, 'cos Fred was really close to Richard. So we withdrew from that idea.

Then, after a time he really felt it was time for me to walk back on stage. In his own way he had a somewhat competitive nature, and he was watching how the arena of female artists has really widened. The girls have done a great job. Now, I don't consider myself a female artist – I'm just an artist – but Fred had that bit of competitiveness. He wanted me to take a stand, I think. I actually was the one who was reticent. He felt it in me before I did.

We were gonna do pretty much what we're doing now: do a record, do dates in the summer, do things when we could. But he was... actually (her voice slows down)... looking forward to…that. So…

Are any of the songs from that period on this new album?

Two. I didn't do a lot of them, just because I couldn't. It was just too painful. Even doing those two... They're two rock songs. Fred really wanted me to do rock songs again. For all the knowledge and sophistication that Fred had acquired over the years as a musician, he always said there was always room for one more great rock song, and he never stopped trying to write it. It's just so happened to work out that the pivotal rock songs on the album are the two that Fred and I wrote together.

It's funny, but I really always wanted him to go back out. I would've been happy staying at home taking care of the kids. I really wanted the world to see him. I really loved his work, and I do regret that people didn't get to see his full range. But he was his own man, he did what he wanted. He wasn't a guy trapped in a family situation. He wanted a family deeply, and he committed himself to his family... to a fault, I think. He was a great father.

One of the main reasons that I'm able to feel no guilt, nothing but pride when I'm performing, is that I know he wanted me to do it. I never regretted my decision to stop performing. I spent the '80s studying and writing, and becoming a far more facile writer. I learned quite a bit about everything from sports to cooking, whatever I needed to learn at any given moment. And I really treasure those years. I didn't yearn for or regret the past. I didn't even think about it. I was too wrapped up in our present.

What I often did was to wake up early and write from five to seven or eight when the kids got up. I always allowed myself a time, and continued the work ethic that I had developed with Robert Mapplethorpe. No matter what was happening, even when we were sick, Robert and I always worked. Every day. It was sort of a pact we made, and I've kept to that.

I've learned that I don't need to smoke pot all night and then at three in the morning write my poem. I had to learn a whole different system of creation. If I have from five to seven to do my work, then that's when I'll do it. I've completely grasped the fact that it comes from within me, and I take it wherever I go. Whether I'm in a prison in French Guyana or in my laundry room. You don't have to be the victim of inspiration. I learned a lot of things from Fred...

The recent Mapplethorpe biography painted you as a prisoner of Fred's tyrannical whims.

Oh, please... I made a decision about the kind of life I wanted to live. I made it, and I have never even once – never! – regretted making it. I mean, I missed my friends, I missed the camaraderie of the band, I missed certain things. Even though sometimes it was difficult, to me it was a privilege to be with him. I only regret that he's gone. I don't regret nothing else.

It was a treat to see Bob Neuwirth at your Roxy show.

I met Bobby around 1969 at the Chelsea Hotel. I was still kinda hoping to be a painter at that time, but it was beginning to become clear to me that it wasn't my beat and so I was writing quite a bit. I was in the lobby of the Chelsea and I had a notebook. "Hey poet," I remember him saying. "Well, you look like a poet. Do you write like one?" Defiant, very challenging. I thought, Whoah, Bob Neuwirth! He was in Don't Look Back. That's his leg on the cover of Highway 61 Revisited! So I gave him my notebook, and he read it and actually thought about it. He took me under his wing. He was a bit older than me, and really like a brother. He was very kind to me, but tough too. He taught me a lot, and helped me start to develop some sense of myself as a writer. At the same time he introduced me to a world that I hadn't been privy to. He introduced me to all kinds of people – Janis Joplin, the Grateful Dead – and introduced me in a way that they treated me respectfully.

After that I met Sam Shepard and he was the same way. He really felt that I was a good writer. He encouraged me to the point of conceit, nearly. He really made me feel good about myself, and made it seem important that I keep writing. He and Bobby did a lot to instill in me not only the desire to keep writing, but they made me feel that I was a writer. That's an important step. I had always felt different from other people, a misfit and an alien, but I never really gleaned myself as being special. Other people seemed to pull it out of me, whether it was Robert Mapplethorpe, Sam Shepard or Bobby Neuwirth. I've been very lucky in my life to have people perceive something in me that I didn't always perceive in myself.

When I called your hotel in San Francisco, you were out and they told me that Todd Rundgren had come by with his kids to pick up yours. That seemed like another nice full circle.

Yes. He was very important to me in those early New York days too. I think it was Bobby Neuwirth who introduced me to Todd. And Todd had been so good to Jackson. He let Jack play this beautiful Gibson of his on stage, and then let him take it on the rest of the tour. Todd's another person who really encouraged me. Todd actually thought I had a future as a comedian. I did too.

You mean we almost had Patti Lee Smith in stand-up comedy?

I had that daydream for years. I used to pretend that I went on the Johnny Carson show. He really liked me, and then he got sick and asked me to take over the show until he got better. And I did so well that when Johnny retired he gave me his show. It was one of my favourite daydreams. I still make use of my Johnny Carson studies, as you've probably realised. All the sparring I do, being able to take what hecklers dish out and one-up them, is from years of studying Johnny.

I wasn't really a '60s person. I had lived a fairly sheltered life in South Jersey. I came to New York in 1967, but I lived with Robert Mapplethorpe in Brooklyn. I spent that time working to be an artist or supporting Robert, and I really didn't go through all those '60s changes. I wasn't really involved in the political scene. I was frightened by the '60s, really. The masses of people and all the assassinations and the drug culture and the war in Vietnam...I found all of this overwhelming.

The one positive thing is that I did get a sense of the collective, that there was some sort of unspoken unity thing happening. Even though I was chronologically the same age, I felt younger because I was a bit behind. So I observed it from a slightly different perspective. What I like about it was how it produced its own networking tools, whether publications like Crawdaddy, Creem and Rolling Stone, or underground radio. Number one, of course, was the music itself, which was something new. Generations before us went wild over Benny Goodman or Frank Sinatra, but they didn't necessarily say anything. But our music was in concert with who we were.

So I did learn some good lessons from the '60s. I looked at the best of it, and what I thought would happen is that the '70s would come along and be even better. But then what I saw was the people losing interest, becoming more self-oriented, and I was very concerned. I was sort of disappointed with my own people. I didn't like what I saw, and that inspired me to do the kind of work that I did.

I understand it was Lenny and your brother Todd who helped you through the desolate time after Fred passed away.

Between Lenny and my brother, they wouldn't let me get too deep down. The minute Fred passed away, my brother got on a plane and came out. He devoted the rest of his life – which only turned out to be one month – to getting me back on my feet. Todd was one of those workaholic types who work around the clock and never take vacations, but he left work immediately and came and stayed with me.

Then at Thanksgiving we all went back to my parents', and I was having an extremely difficult time. We always went back to New Jersey for Thanksgiving, and this was the first time without Fred in 16 years. I could hardly even rise in the morning. So Toddie came in and said, "C'mon babe, get dressed," and he made me get in the car. He rolled down the windows – he actually had a car where you had to roll down the windows! –and put on a cassette of the Natural Born Killers soundtrack. Our song ‘Rock'n'Roll Nigger’ is on that, and he turned it up as loud as he could get it, and we drove around to all our old hangouts and the places we used to play when we were kids.

Todd really loved that song, and he played it over and over, singing at the top of his lungs. He was going, "You're gonna be all right. You're gonna get back to work. Fred wanted you to and you're gonna do it and I'm gonna help you do it. Even if I have to quit my job to go on the road with ya, we're gonna pull everything up." He was so full of energy and love and enthusiasm that he made it difficult to disbelieve him. I wasn't familiar with that soundtrack, and he said, "There's another little song on it you'll like." So we parked in front of Hoedown Hall and Thomas's Field where we used to play, and this song came on. It was Bob Dylan singing "See the pyramids along the Nile..." [‘You Belong To Me’]. Fred used to sing that song to me, and I sat there and cried listening to Bob sing it. We had been talking about Dylan and how great he was; again, Toddie would have loved being a part of that tour.

We talked and talked, and he stayed for another couple of days. He wouldn't let me not feel good; it was his mission. He said, "We're gonna spend Christmas together and we're gonna get back on our feet." Todd went back to Virginia, and right after that he suffered a stroke and passed away. Which isn't at all uncommon on my side of the family. It was really terrible, but after the shock of losing him I found that he had made me feel so good, and had brought up my spirits so much, that I made a decision. Since his last mission in life had been to get me feeling good, I wasn't going to have his mission be in vain. So even now when I feel... you know... I just think about that.

You have to let your loved ones go, even as you cherish their spirit as you move forward. Which is difficult, but very important. Then, because of the kind of person I am, I also feel it is my mission to do something in their honour. Like I keep working and collaborating with Robert. [The Coral Sea, her tribute to Mapplethorpe featuring many of his photographs, will soon be published by W.W. Norton.] I have many things to do for Fred, not only in terms of work but of course the lifelong mission of watching over our children. With my brother, my mission is to feel good, be happy and do my work. So in those ways…as deeply as I miss all of their earthly presences, they're still around. Very much around.

"Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine" is a line that will forever be associated with you. How do you view it now?

I wrote that line when I was 20 years old. A lot of people misinterpreted it as the statement of an atheist, somebody who doesn't believe in anything. I happen to believe in Jesus. I never said he didn't exist. I only said that I didn't want him to take responsibility for my actions. Because I was young, I perceived myself as an artist, and the artist as a sort of cerebral criminal. I wanted the freedom to pursue all the things I imagined. Things within my art, not in life. In my art, I wanted the right to be misguided, misdirected, slightly criminal, utterly promiscuous, even a murderer. Within the realm of my work. I didn't want to be weighed down with such a conscience that I couldn't trample the earth, every junkyard and every cloud. I wanted to be free of conscience. I wanted free rein.

Over the years I got into studying Christ, reconsidering Him in Pasolini terms: Christ as revolutionary, a person who felt akin to our people. I found, as I got older and studied deeper, His roles, His ideals, His philosophies a lot more interesting. To the point that at our last show in Florence in '79, which was the last time I did that version of ‘Gloria’, I sang, "Jesus died for somebody's sins, why not mine?" I probably would not sing that original line now. Not because I think there's anything wrong with it, just because I don't identify with it now.

You always operated from the belief that rock'n'roll was a force for good. With all that's happened in the culture, do you still think that? Or has this belief in some way been perverted?

Well... I think everything gets perverted. But I'm not really concerned with how it gets perverted up in the mainstream, because that's business. I don't have the time or energy to pioneer against big business at this point in my life. Young people can do that.

I like the way young people are interacting globally. I like the alternative networking they're doing. I'd like to see them develop that, and start seeing what they can do collectively to better our situation on the planet. This planet is in deep trouble. What are we seeing? A resurgence of communicable diseases like tuberculosis, we have AIDS; the whole planet is becoming very viral. I'm not saying we can stop it, but only we can reduce all of these things.

Is music the same energy source for kids today that it was for us, or is it even possible that it can be?

I think there's so much stuff now. Look when we grew up. When I was a kid TV was black and white and there were three stations. They only had cartoons on Saturday morning. The records would come out, it's a big album, you have a big record player, you go home and put it on the record player, you sit and listen to it and really digest what the music’s saying. It was its own experience.

Music is still a powerful force – if you have a powerful individual – but I think it's a lot more convoluted now, if that's the right word.

You and Fred talked about not doing anything for personal gain, that it would have to benefit someone else. How do you reconcile that with everything that's happening now?

With this little tour we're not making any money; we're pretty much breaking even. We did a benefit for an AIDS hospice in San Francisco, and benefits will continue to be a big part of our agenda. I have to get back on my feet, truthfully. If it starts building and things go well, I look forward to a time where I never have to take a cent for hitting the stage. I'm watching people in rock'n'roll make millions and millions of dollars. I see a lot of my friends who've gotten extremely prosperous, and I think they should be doing a lot more. I don't mean giving an autographed guitar to charity. I mean, if you already have $20 million in the bank, take 10 million and find the people that are doing the strongest AIDS research and just give it to 'em. I would encourage performers to take the money they make on stage and give it to the people who need it.

When you first came around the mission was to keep alive and free a certain rock'n'roll spirit. Is the mission this time about this different, though related, spirit? The responsibility that comes with freedom?

I think so. A lot of the things we attempted to do in the '70s were accomplished. Like T.S. Eliot said, each generation translates for itself. I done what I was supposed to do when I done it. It's not my place to do it now. I wouldn't even know how to. All I know is that the planet is full of hands needing to be helped, and I'm trying to see what I can do to get things motivated in a new way. I still think it has to be revolutionary. We still need to redesign stuff.

People are making comeback tours and farewell tours, they're going on Unplugged and they're picking up their lifetime achievement awards. But what are they really doing? I think we've gotten way too cute with all these tons of awards we're giving to each other. Too much bullshit, too much cute stuff. The Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame. It's another money machine. I did appear at one of those to induct the Velvet Underground. I did that out of respect to the Velvets, and because that recognition meant something to them. But I feel about the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame pretty much the way Fred did: that we should be ashamed. The spirit should be the museum.

‘Piss Factory’ is still one of your more resonant works. But those women you described with such disdain – "these bitches are just too lame to understand/too God damn grateful to get this job to know they're getting screwed up the ass" –with all you've lived since, I'm wondering how you'd regard them now?

Oh, I'd be a lot more compassionate now. Not necessarily for their stupidity, because some of their rules and codes I would still rail against. But being hard-working women... maybe their husband's dead, or their husband took off and they've got six kids to look after. So yes, much more empathy, compassion. Much more respect.

When I was younger, I really felt completely there for the misfit, the person outside society. Artists, and people on the fringes, whether because of their philosophies or sexual persuasion or politics. And I still feel akin to those people, 'cos I'm still one of them. But I've been through so much... life – being a mother, being a widow, being a laundress, all the things I do – that I definitely feel more empathy, a more common bond with people. When I was younger I had so much intensity that it got to the point where I felt I was in a whole other realm. I don't feel that so much – I feel a lot more human these days.

© Ben Edmonds 1996

Michael Stipe on Patti

UNLIKE THE OTHER GUYS IN THE BAND, WHEN WE started I didn't have any particular understanding of the standard history of the pop format, so I pretty much learned as I went along. I had virtually no musical background. I pretty much ignored music until I was about 15 years old, and at the high school that I went to – which was in Illinois in the very heart of middle America – heavy metal ruled. My parents listened to Gershwin, Mancini, Wanda Jackson and the soundtrack to Dr Zhivago. That's all I heard.

I accidentally got a subscription to the Village Voice when I was 15. Right about that time – middle to late 1975 – they were talking about this thing that was going on in New York with Television and Patti Smith and the Ramones and CBGB's. I distinctly remember the November 1975 issue of Creem magazine. Someone had left a copy in study hall under a chair. It had a picture of Patti Smith, and she was terrifying looking. She looked like Morticia Addams. And I think it was Lester Bangs or Lisa Robinson writing about punk rock in New York and how all the other music was like watching colour movies, but this is like watching static-y black and white TV. And that made incredible sense to me. I read about those bands before I ever heard them, and it just sounded so amazing.

Horses, the first Patti Smith album, came out soon afterwards and it pretty much tore my limbs off and put them back on in a different way. I was 15 when I heard it, and that's pretty strong stuff for a 15-year-old American middle-class white boy, sitting in his parents' living room with the headphones on so they wouldn't hear it. It was like the first time you went into the ocean and got knocked down by a wave. It killed. It was so completely liberating. I had my parents' crappy headphones and I sat up all night with a huge bowl of cherries listening to Patti Smith, eating those cherries and going. Oh, my God!... Holy shit!... Fuck!... Then I was sick.

© Michael Stipe 1996

[bippot]

Ooo can I please request an Adrian Chase/Vigilante x fem!innocent!reader where she is Peacemaker’s younger sister who’s in her early twenties. She hasn’t seen her brother since she was around 5 years old because her Mom took her far away from the horribleness that is Peacemaker’s Father, not wanting her to grow up around that awful environment that Peacemaker was forced to grow up in. Peacemaker wanted to find his baby sister after he was released, but he got wrapped up in Project Butterfly. The butterflies find out about Peacemaker’s sister and threaten to go after her, but Amanda Waller won’t let him leave to go make sure she’s safe, so he sends Vigilante to go get her before the butterflies can get to her and bring her back to the team so that she’ll be protected from the Butterflies. Vig showing up at her apartment, not even explaining who he is or why he’s there before just picking her up in his arms and throwing her in his car lmao (leave it to Vig not to explain why he’s basically abducting her), she’d be crying and hitting him, trying to get away and he’s just like, “Hey hey hey, I’m just saving your life!!”and attempting to calm her down, she eventually calms down and he (finally lmao) explains that her big brother sent him to keep her safe, because bad people are after her. They have to hide out for a while, so it takes them a few months to even get back to the 11th Street Kids HQ. In that time, the two of them get really close and start a romantic relationship (starting to fall in love), him protecting her along the way any time danger happens. When they get back to where the team is, Peacemaker and Y/n have a sweet reunion, and also he’s pretty angry at Vig when he catches the two of them kissing lol

On The Road

Story Summary -> Peacemaker's mother fled with her unborn child when Chris was a teenager. He'd always wanted to find his family again, but he was too slow. After annoying Waller, he must send his friends out to help save his family, and Adrian finds out that he is more than willing to throw himself into danger to ensure that Peace's sister is unharmed.

Tags -> Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Canon, Rescue Missions, On the Run, Enemies to Lovers, Fights, Car Chases, Car Accidents, Unexpected Visitors, Mild Sexual Content, Alien Invasion, Bad Parenting, Happy Ending, One Big Happy Family, Idiots in Love

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August Smith had pretended to be a nice guy for the first couple of years that Annabelle had been married to him. He'd seemed like a gentleman when they first met. Yes, he held some old fashioned views but so did her father and he was a nice enough man, so Annabelle didn't have any worries about their relationship in the beginning.

It was when Keith was born when his rhetoric began to amp up. Back then Annabelle had chalked her husband's actions up to feeling misplaced because he'd been fired from his job and replaced by someone who was far better suited in that position - who happened to be born with black skin - and needed time to sort out his feelings. But, Chris was born a few years later and he was still spewing vitriol so she came to the realisation that this was who Auggie truly was.

The White Dragon appeared in Evergreen and anyone with a functioning brain cell knew who was behind the mask. There was one guy in town who was gathering a white evangelical cult and going to every protest or social issues discussion to act as abhorrent as they could. And Annabelle was married to that guy. At that point, she had her boys to think about. She wanted to leave her god awful husband in the dust, but didn't want her boys to take up his views and had to go along with what Auggie said or she'd be punished for it.

Keith and Chris were homeschooled for as long as Annabelle could convince Auggie to let her, which didn't take much arguing when she pretended that she was concerned with their boys coming into contact with 'unsavoury folk'. In all honesty, she knew that they deserved to be taught about right and wrong from their parents - Auggie taught them about wrong, so she would teach them about right - but eventually the cult got big enough that there were enough children to create a classroom.

Then, the curriculum was set by Auggie and Annabelle was replaced as the sole teacher by a racist radical. She still tried to guide her sons when they were at home - Keith, maybe due to his age, seemed more receptive to her preaching of kindness than Chris was - and had to make it very clear to her sons they should never repeat her lessons in front of their dad.

As the cult grew, so did the number of Auggie's wives. Annabelle no longer had to deal with whatever he wanted because he'd moved into a separate trailer where he'd be free to do whatever debauchery he pleased without being interrupted by his annoying sons.

When the boys were old enough, both of them preteens, Annabelle had decided to pack all their stuff and drive away with her children. Auggie must've caught wind of this or maybe it was just chance, but the date she'd set for their departure was the day Keith died. After that, all of her hope disappeared and she allowed herself to be trapped in the hellhole her husband had created.

Years passed. Chris became more violent. Auggie was building an army. Annabelle had given up on anything resembling a happy life outside their trailer. It was then that a glimmer of something appeared in her life - saying it was hope that appeared seemed too hopeful at the time - so Annabelle just referred to it as 'something'.

To give her one last shot at making him his heir, Auggie paid attention to Annabelle after ignoring her for so long - he'd been preoccupied with the other women of the cult who were younger and more radical for some time - but now, he was pretending to be the nice gentleman he'd been when they first met. She knew it wasn't true. He was manipulating her to get her pregnant. Yet, Annabelle was so tired and it was nice to live in that fantasy for a few months more, so there was a brief but blissful part of the late 90's in which August Smith didn't abuse his son or wife.

Obviously, once the White Dragon found out that the baby was a girl, he went back to being a piece of shit. Annabelle knew she was on thin ice. And she also knew that Auggie had killed people - so many people - before. She never would've guessed that he'd demand that their baby girl was to be 'discarded' as soon as she was born because he didn't want his followers to think his seed was weak enough to produce a girl and abortions were a sin (any good evangelical can tell you that). The second that came out of his mouth, she knew that this fire under her ass would cause her to flee.

And despite all of her pleading, Chris decided to stay with his father. He was almost 18 at that point, almost a man, and she knew there was no way he was going to be swayed at this point in time. Maybe when he grew up a bit would he finally realise that his father was an abusive, controlling bastard who needed to go to jail for the rest of his days.

14 weeks pregnant and completely alone, Annabelle took what little belongings she had, stole a bag of cash that she knew Auggie left under his bed, and hit the road, never to come back to Evergreen ever again. She changed her name, made her situation known to the police and witness protection services, kept off the Internet, stayed as low profile as possible and tried to give her daughter the life her son's deserved to get too.

Y/N knew all of that. Her mother had been very honest and up front about what the horror she'd escaped when Y/N was old enough, and the entire time, Y/N couldn't help but feel for her brother. He had to deal with that monster all alone and was turned into a weapon because of it. She had vowed that one day she'd meet him and offer a helping hand if he wanted one.

During the whole Butterfly thing, Peacemaker demanded that Economos needed to do him one small, tinsy winsy favour to get back in his good books. Because John had framed Auggie, John now had to discover where Annabelle Smith was as payment. Economos didn't find any paper trail on Annabelle's location, but he did find Y/N. She had school reports, college admission, job applications that all had been saved in a witness protection file that John certainly should not have had access to - obviously witness protection needed to up their security system - under the umbrella name of 'Dragon'.

The file had led him to another that had lots of information about Auggie and Chris that accompanied the two women. It was a simple deduction, but one that John felt really proud about. And just like Economos, the butterflies had people who were collecting data about Peacemaker. Since he'd become their downfall, they'd purposefully taken over a hacker that could get into witness protection just as quickly as John did. They had the same information to make deductions on.

There was a few Glan Tai like institution's around and as The 11th Street Kids made their way through another, Adebayo locked herself in a control room to escape from a horde and - later down the line - a bomb that Vigilante had stole from Peacemaker's belt because he wanted to see the huge jar the aliens kept their nectar in go boom. Whilst killing time, Leota had searched the room and found a file cabinet just under the computer desk that contained information about every member of their team and secrets the Butterflies had found out about them.

Weirdly - or not so weirdly because he rarely takes off his mask - Adrian's file was the shortest. It was a list of his crimes and, though it was a fairly long list, there wasn't a through line that could point to his identity.

Leota's was useless. The big secret they'd attributed to her was who her mother was and, yeah, she'd admitted that on national TV.

Economos had two restraining orders against him. He wasn't allowed to come 100 yards from both Joan Jett and Dolly Parton until they were lifted in 2012 and 2015 respectively.

Inside Harcourts were pictures of a very pretty, dainty young ballet dancer. It took Leota a few minutes to realise that the girl was Harcourt. These weren't damning on their own, but when they were paired with the paper clipping that said, 'The Sun. Ballet Bash - Young Immigrant Taken In For Questioning Over A String of 'Accidental' Deaths' and an article about many suspicious murders that had happened when Emila had been a student at The Royal Ballet School in Covent Gardens, London.

Peacemaker's file was a hefty one. There was so much documentation. About his prison time. About Corto Maltese. About the White Dragon. And the situation around the White Dragon's death. About the cult. About Keith. About what little they could find about Annabelle. About Y/N.

In the depths of her search, Adebayo didn't hear when the remaining butterflies were shot and Vigilante yelled on the other side of the door for her to come out. She had noticed that whoever had been on the computer last hadn't logged out and was getting video updates about where the girl from Peacemaker's file was. As clear as day, whoever this girl was, she was walking around a grocery store without a single clue that she was being watched by a bunch of aliens.

Another one of Peacemaker's bombs was detonated to blast through the control room door. Peace and Vigilante entered, guns drawn, and were prepared to save Adebayo from an alien weirdo. "Dude! You're not dying?" Vigilante called out after taking in the scene in front of him.

She ignored him and chose to ask, "Chris, who is this?" as she gestured to grocery shop girl. Both heroes rushed to catch a glimpse of what the hell Adebayo was pointing to.

"That's my sister." Chris held his finger up to his ear and clicked on the comms to declare, "Harcourt, tell Waller that I need a team to put my remaining family back in witness protection."

Waller wasn't one to be ordered around so was it any surprise that she declined the request for Y/N and Annabelle L/N to be found and placed in a safe house until further notice? And she forbade Peacemaker from making contact with his family to warn them in any way. The 11th Street Kids were ordered to do another sweep of the facility and head back to HQ as quickly as they could.

"Why are you freaking out?" Adrian questioned, bewildered that Peacemaker hadn't come to the same conclusion he had.

"I swear your head is filled with dogshit rather than actual functioning brain goo sometimes, asshole," Chris sighed, slumping against the van seats.

He'd always intended to make contact with his mother again. Chris had no idea whether she'd want that but it was worth a shot, right? Once Economos dug up the fact that he had a sister, Chris had promised himself that as soon as the butterflies were dealt with, he'd reintroduce himself to them. It seems that life has a way of messing with your plans.

"That's rude but I know you're going through some mental shit right now so I'm going pretend that you said something really complimentary to me, and for that, I thank you."

"Can you shut up for five fucking minutes? I need to think and your annoying bitchass voice is interrupting that!" Peacemaker stressed and let his head fall to his hands, his thumbs rubbing far too aggressive circles on his temples.

"Woah, all I was going to say was that Waller said you weren't allowed to go."

"Yeah, no shit, dumbass."

Adrian pulled off his visor and nudged his elbow into the meat of Chris' bicep, suggesting that, "She didn't say I couldn't go. Or Harcourt couldn't. Adebayo will probably get loads of shit from her mom if she did so she's out too. Economos is a pussy."

For once, the idiot had a good idea. "I get your sister. Harcourt gets your mummy. Badda bing, badda boom. You get what you want without disobeying Waller," he explained as if it should've been the first thing on everyone's minds. He looked at Chris expectantly with a smug expression plastered across his face.

Everyone was astonished. They were speechless until Harcourt confirmed from the passenger's seat, "That actually works."

"I'm a genius, yeah," Adrian preened, leaning back against the cool metal side of the van, only to jump away and complain, "Wow, that's really cold against the back of your head! It's not comfy at all!"

It was settled. Vigilante had come up with a plan and they were going to execute it. They'd get to HQ. Adebayo and Peacemaker would stay back and feed other Vigilante and Harcourt updates on the L/N's position so they could have plausible deniability if Waller looked into it as Economos set up the safe houses.

Darkness had arrived by the time everything was ready to go. Harcourt was very polite when she knocked on Peacemaker's mother's door at an ungodly hour and she explained the situation to Annabelle so swiftly that left her house without much fuss. Vigilante went down another route.

In the dead of night, he decided that the best course of action was to smash one of her windows in and climb through there. He stalked through her house in silence but took a misstep and caused the floorboard under his foot to squeak and reveal his position.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

A baseball bat came swinging around a corner and, if he didn't have such good reflexes, would've hit him in the head. He dodged it expertly and dropped his shoulder closer to the ground so he could rugby tackle her into the next room, which happened to be a bedroom. His shoulder connected with her collarbone, the momentum of the push sending them both plummeting onto her mattress with a bouncy thump.

"Sh...Shh...Don't yell at me!" He whined quietly as he tried to calm her down. It didn't work. She tried to wiggle her arm free from under him and take another swing, but he caught her by the wrist and disarmed her. "You're being so no cool right now."

"Get off me, you rapey motherfucker!"

He eased off her because, duh, he was a random man in a mask who'd broken into her house and tackled her onto a bed. He didn't think of the implications of that when he'd done it. "Oh shit, my bad."

"What are you doing in my house?" she demanded, pushing him off her and sitting herself up. Obviously, she didn't trust him one bit and had clocked where he'd thrown her bat and four other things in her room that could be used as impromptu weapons if need be.

"Hi, my name is Vigilante - no, that's not my real name."

"Yeah, no shit."

"Sorry about the, y'know, breaking and entering thing. I know a guy who can fix that window for you in no time. I'll give you his number when we're done with this whole thingamajig," he said so casually it made her even more suspicious.

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a look that screamed, 'what the fuck are you talking about?' so he felt the need to do more explaining. "You're being watched, by the way. Just so you know. I saw on the cameras that you bought a bunch of pads and tampons at the store today so I know what's going on down there, don't you worry. I'll be gentle," he admitted and even winked at her in an attempt to assure her that everything would be okay. It didn't. Y/N was fully convinced that he was a creep about to kidnap her for nefarious purposes.

Just as she lunged for her alarm clock to smash over his head, he caught her by the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder. No matter how much she punched and kicked him, he continued to march straight out the door and towards the Vigilante-mobile parked outside the house. None of her neighbours made any indication that they were aware something was going on, despite the fact a woman in pj's and fluffy socks was possibly being abducted right outside their windows.

"Put me down! Put me the fuck down!"

"Please stop making a scene! I'm trying to save your life and you're making that super difficult right now!"

Completely unfazed, he walked past the vehicle like nothing was happening, opened the back seat door and tossed Y/N inside before getting in the driver's seat. He turned to face her to warn, "You really should put your seatbelt on," and drove off to the coordinates John sent.

"Who is Economos?" she asked when John's caller ID popped up on Vigilante's phone in the car stand thingamabob. Vigilante pressed to answer the call and soon found out that it was a video call, the faces of Chris and Leota appearing on the screen.

"Is Y/N secure?" Chris greeted, his voice racked with worry.

"Yeah, she almost bludgeoned me with a baseball and kicked the shit out of me, but yeah. She's safe, I guess," Vigilante said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing. In the moment, he'd done a great job at pretending that her attacks hadn't hurt. They had. He'd definitely be littered in bruises tomorrow.

"Chris?" Y/N leant forward and got in between the gap in the front seats, her head emerging into view. "Hi, um, why did this masked guy just kidnap me?"

There was a brief moment where Chris just stared at the video call, his brain unable to process the fact his sister had just spoken to him for the first time in his entire life. Leota nudged him with her elbow, mouthing at him with wide eyes, obviously asking him if he was okay. "Hi?" Y/N repeated, waving at him and looking confused. "Can you guys hear me? Hello?"

"Hi sis," he managed to reply after a moment.

The smile tugging at the corners of his mouth made it apparent that despite everything, her brother must trust Vigilante enough that he knew she wasn't in any danger. Then, he realised that she was under the impression that she was being kidnapped and that smile faltered. Vig did say she tried to get away from him.

"Adrian, what the fuck did you do?"

"Dude, you know not to use my real name!"

"How did you approach Y/N's retrieval?" Adebayo cut in, preparing herself to calm Peacemaker down when he heard what Vigilante had done. She didn't know exactly - well, she had a guess - but she knew they hadn't had a quiet and peaceful introduction.

Y/N answered for Vigilante. "He smashed one of my windows in and I thought he was an intruder ready to assault me."

"Vij! I'm going to punch you in the dick when I see you next!"

"Hey, hey," Adrian interjected, "What did I do wrong?!"

"Speaking as a woman, that sounds really scary. I'm sorry he put you through that, Y/N," Leota apologised. "He means well but tends to not think things through. I doubt he intended it to happen in the way that it did. Still, Vig, you should really apologise."

Sheepishly, Vigilante rubbed the back of his neck. "Erm, yeah, sure, sorry. Sorry about that. I didn't mean to... That was an accident. Not intentional, I swear to God. I thought you'd be asleep and I'd carry you to my car without any fuss and, yeah, saying it loud makes me realise how fucked up it sounds," he thought out loud, his focus flitting between the road and what her reaction was.

When all she did was stare at him, unimpressed, he felt the need to continue speaking. He began to ramble, "I imagined it like falling asleep on the couch when you were a kid and then waking up in your bed because your dad carried you there, and like, you're not mad because there's this brief window of time where you thought you had teleportation powers. Who doesn't want superpowers? I know I do, man, but..."

His rant trailed off and a small silence fell between them as he struggled to find the words to express himself adequately. The only thing he could think of doing was repeating, "I really am sorry" again. This seemed to ease some of her worries. She crawled into the passenger's seat and crossed her legs underneath her in an attempt to get somewhat comfortable.

"Why is this happening?" she wondered aloud, grabbing the phone so she was in frame. Vigilante looked across at her as she reached across the console, his gaze lingering slightly longer than strictly necessary on the expanse of bare thighs that were visible thanks to her sleep shorts riding up. He coughed and averted his eyes, focusing instead on the street signs as the city lights flashed in front of them.

"Some alien assholes are trying to get revenge on me but they can't get to me, so the next best thing is to get to you and mom," Peacemaker responded bluntly, yet as the subject of Annabelle came up, his voice got quieter and a little smaller as he added, "How is mom? Well, I got Harcourt to bring her to a safe house so I know she's physically okay, but how is she, like, doing doing? Generally? I haven't had the chance to speak to her yet."

Not having the chance wasn't exactly right. He did have a window of opportunity to video call with Harcourt and his mother but had been nervously freaking out at the time. It had been years since he'd talked to his mom, and he was scared she'd be disappointed with who he'd become. Y/N had never known him when he was a nice, naive kid so she had no idea how unsatisfactory he'd grown to be.

"Mama's doing great actually. She got her doctorate in child psychology last month and she's been working on some new programs for the kids she helps out at the community centre and stuff. Our mommy is a doctor," Y/N told him, pride evident in her voice as she spoke about her mother.

Times had changed, it seemed, and Chris felt a pang in his chest that he hadn't witnessed Annabelle in all her doctoral glory. He didn't know her while she was the best version of herself, but he would eventually.

"Yeah, that's cool."

Their signal got all wobbly as they got further away from the city, the trees thickening as their surroundings grew increasingly wilder and more remote. "We're breaking up, Peace. I'll message you when we get to the house," Vigilante announced before hanging up abruptly, not bothering to ask for permission. He glanced at Y/N. "Me and Peacemaker are BFF's, by the way. I mean, yeah, sure if you ask him he'd definitely say that Eagly is his ultimate best friend - twin flame kinda shit - but I'm his human BFF who saved his ass a bunch of times."

Letting out a sigh, Y/N let out a hum as a response - because, honestly, that's all she had to give - and shifted in her seat to try and get comfortable. She tested out a few positions and found that taking off her cardigan to roll up as a pillow, demanding that Vigilante turn up the heating so she'd be toasty (he was absolutely sweating in his suit and mask but thought he better get on her good side), and resting against the door window with her legs bent at the knee resting on the cushion was the best option. Her foot occasionally dangled near enough the gearstick that Adrian had to swat at them every once in a while so he could change gear.

"Stop touching my feet, creep."

"Stop getting in the way then, weirdo."

A smile crept onto Adrian's face as she stretched to kick him in the thigh. He caught her ankle in his hand and held it there, unconsciously caressing her skin in slow back and forth motions with his thumb, causing her lips to quirk up ever so slightly. When he was sure she was comfortable with him touching her, he pulled her foot into his lap then reached to the same with the other.

"We've still an hour and a half to drive, get some shut eye. I promise I won't shatter any windows and wake you if you promise that you wont try to batter me with the headrest as I drive. Deal?"

Y/N nodded her agreement and settled down to sleep. In her head, Y/N thought over exactly what had happened to her in the past few hours as she drifted off. It was a lot to make sense of and even if she somehow figured out how to wrap her brain around the fact she'd been kidnapped by her brother's BFF on his orders because aliens that look like little beautiful bugs were trying to hunt her down, she would've been more vigilant, but strangely, she felt comfortable enough in her kidnapper's presence to kick her feet up and turn her consciousness off.

There might be a lot more to understand in the future but for now she was too tired to care.

Looking at her, you wouldn't be able to figure out that Y/N and Peacemaker were siblings just by their faces. They didn't look anything alike. Adrian thought that his buddy was a good looking dude, but he wasn't on Y/N's level of beauty. As she slept, Adrian had to refrain from staring at her so he'd focus on driving to, y'know, not make them into roadkill but it was like tearing your eyes away from a Van Gogh painting or a Greek statue made out of the most perfect marble ever created.

Although, she snored so loudly that he had to turn the radio up just a smidge so he would actually be able to hear the songs that were playing in the background.

They were almost at the safe house when whoever was behind them drove straight into the back of the Vigilante-mobile, which perked Y/N up in an instant and made Adrian yell so many profanities. "What the fuck is going on?!" Y/N snapped awake, any grogginess that she might have felt directly after waking was pushed aside by her sheer panic.

"They found us!" Vigilante said, his voice tight and tense as he fought to hold the car steady, "There's a gun in the glove compartment, do you know how to shoot?"

The car sped up to come up right beside the side of the Vigilante-mobile and veered to smash right into it, breaking the window in one bang. "My mother escaped a redneck cult headed by a super villain, so yeah, I know how to shoot," she quipped, opening the glove box to retrieve the gun. She clicked the safety off, aimed the gun towards the vehicle's tyres when squeezed the trigger with no trouble.

"Shoot the people! Shoot the fucking people, not the car! Shoot the fucking people!" screamed Vigilante frantically, his voice growing louder and higher with each word.

"I don't want to kill anyone!" she yelled, shooting another bullet into the back tyre. "Oh my god! Oh my god, I'm gonna die. We're gonna die. Holy sh-"

"Give me the gun, Y/N!"

Vigilante snatched the gun out of her hands roughly and fired at the driver without hesitation or mercy. The driver was killed instantly, causing its head to slump against the wheel and press his forehead against the horn. The butterfly in the passenger's seat made a move to grab the steering wheel, but Vigilante took another shot and put them down quickly.

With the car now unmanned, it continued on its path to collide with the Vigilante-mobile, swerved it off the road entirely and pushed it onto its side. The moment it came to a halt, Adrian was urging her out of the broken windscreen - yeah, he accidentally put his whole palm on her ass to push her in the right direction - and scrambled after her to escape the crash zone.

"Oh shit, my car!" Vigilante whined as he saw his precious Sebring destroyed beyond recognition in a matter of seconds, his heart racing and feeling extremely uneasy. "Fuck! RIP the Vigilante-mobile, you were the fucking best. I fingered Tracey from the Starbucks opposite the cinema twice in there!"

"Do cars blow up? Or is that just a movie thing?"

"Fuck, I don't know. We better run just in case. Shit shit shit!"

He picked Y/N up like he'd done previously that night, but unlike last time, she went willingly and didn't kick him at all this time. He started running as fast as they possibly could away from the scene of the ambush. Once he was a distance he believed was adequate away, he gently set Y/N down.

"You okay?" Vigilante asked worriedly.

She sighed and glanced down at herself. Some of the broken glass had cut parts of her skin that was showing, so anything under the sleeve of her t-shirt and below the hem of her shorts was littered with nicks of varying severities and sizes.

"I think this looks worse than it actually is," she suggested, holding her arms up to show the cuts on her forearms and making Adrian wince sympathetically. He tenderly placed his fingers on her elbow and turned her arm so he could examine them further.

"They hurt."

"Yeah."

"Okay, shit... lemme think for a minute."

Adrian rubbed his temple as he pondered over his options. He knew there was a first aid kit in the safe house, but where was it? He'd never been great with orienteering and getting places without Google maps, and he'd left his phone in the Vigilante-mobile. So, he could either lead Y/N through a forest even though he had literally no idea what direction to go in, or risk climbing back into the possible exploding car to have a guide.

"I'll be right back," he warned Y/N before he started heading back in the direction from which they came.

"What the fuck are you doing?" She followed after him, her gaze shifting nervously around the area as if she expected to be ambushed again any second.

"Gonna find my phone. It shouldn't take more than two minutes."

Like an idiot, he climbed back into the car to retrieve his phone, the gun, and the packet of Jolly Ranchers he usually kept in the cup holder but had flown to the dash when the car turned onto its side. He also wrestled with the boot in an effort to get it open because there was extra clothes and snacks stashed inside a gym bag in there, and eventually yanked it open out of pure brute force.

Once he got the goods, he was hurrying back to Y/N. "Do you want a Jolly Rancher?" he offered casually, brandishing the packet in front of him. The packet was squished in between them as she trapped him in a hug.

"What's going on here?" Adrian wondered as he peered down at her curiously. "Are you at the cryie, emotional stage of your period?"

"I'm not on my period. Women tend to buy sanitary products before their periods start. That is, unless they've still got some or forgot and left it too late so that's the instance when they buy them during."

"Ah," Adrian said, nodding in understanding although he didn't really understand. She hadn't explained why she was hugging him, but it still was nice of her to do so and gave him some kind of comfort after he'd risked his life for a mobile phone.

Oh! She thought the car was going to explode and that he was going to die in a big fiery bang while she stood helplessly by as her mind raced in circles, wondering if she was going to have to fend for herself.

"I'm okay," he reassured, patting her hair softly and a little awkwardly. This kind of concern was new to him, giving and receiving. His hand lingered near the back of her head as he stroked her locks in what he hoped was a soothing manner since he certainly noticed that she leaned forward until her head laid against his chest piece and was taking deep breaths to calm her nerves and relax herself in his embrace.

He didn't know whether to feel happy or scared that someone cared enough about him to worry about his well-being, so he settled for a mixture of both. "We should start walking to the cabin," he suggested quietly and cleared his throat as he pulled away to get enough space to rifle through the bag to pull out some warmer clothes for her to wear.

"It's getting cold and your clothes have shards of glass and blood on them and your shirt is a little ripped, so yeah, you should put these on. I'll, uh, I'll give you some space to do that." He walked backwards, putting a few steps between them as he turned away shyly. "Just tell me when you're all done."

If somebody had told her that she would be changing out of her bloodstained pj's and practically getting naked on the side of a remote road in the early hours of the morning, she would've laughed at them and gone on her merry way to buy tampons in preparation for next week when Aunty Flow arrived with an achy fury.

"Does that bag have any shoes in there?" she questioned once she was dressed and tapped him on the shoulder, signalling him to turn around.

"Uh, no. I guess not." They both diverted their gaze to her dirty fluffy socks and realised they'd be less than adequate when trekking through a patch of thorny forest and mud. "I could give you a piggyback?"

"You really jump at any opportunity you're given to carry me, huh?" she teased playfully. "I'll take it, thank you."

So, with Y/N on his back like Yoda on Luke, the pair delved deeper into the forest and followed the inconsistent Google maps directions until they finally reached the safe house. They made it to the front door to find it open and a police officer already standing outside, inspecting the scene.

"Is everything alright?" the man inquired, looking up at Adrian from underneath his brows.

Vigilante let Y/N's feet drop to the floor and pointed his gun at the officer. Why was he here? Why was he the only one here? This was supposed to be a top secret location, so why somebody here? Economos was the only other person who knew. Was this officer at the wrong place at the wrong time? Or had they been compromised? Shit, they'd been compromised. How else would the butterflies have known on what road their car was on?

The cop was dead before he reached for his gun. Adrian pulled the trigger, and he heard the satisfying click as it hit its mark, killing the butterfly instantly. The sound seemed to echo in the forest for a brief moment before stopping, leaving nothing behind but the dead body of the officer - which wasn't a great look, but hey, the pig had an alien in his head - lying lifeless on the ground.

Kicking the body out the way, he pulled her through the threshold. "We don't have much time. There should be a landline in here, I'll call. You find the first aid kit," he ordered. Y/N nodded and ran off towards the bathroom as she assumed that was where it would be while Adrian found the landline to make the call.

"Economos? Hello... hello! Are you there? Hello?!" Adrian squawked into the receiver, panicking when the call wasn't picked up. "Come on, dye beard! Come on, man, pick up the fucking phone!"

"I thought I told you guys to stop calling me that," John complained on the other line. "What's taken you guys so long?"

"We were hit off the road and our cabin had a butterfly waiting outside it."

John swore under his breath and could be heard calling for Harcourt to figure out what to do next but she wasn't there. She was at Annabelle's safe house - which actually was safe and there hadn't been any problems on their end at all - and would have to be called to get her opinion.

Peacemaker, who'd been asleep because he fully believed his family had been safe when he lay down on the couch, was startled awake at the sudden yelling and rushed to his feet to investigate the commotion. "What's going on?" he asked, rubbing at his eye with the back of his hand.

"Dude, Economos's safe house wasn't fucking safe at all!" Vigilante whined to his best buddy.

"Is my sister okay?"

"She's got some minor cuts and scrapes, but she's fine," Vigilante assured him before glancing over to see that Y/N had come out of the bathroom with a bright red suitcase that had a cross stitched in the corner in her hand. "We've got a bandages and stuff but our main problem right now is that the butterflies know where we are, so we need to get the fuck out of here. Any ideas, gang?"

Adebayo spoke up, "What about your car?"

"Totalled."

Some rustling outside caught their attention and Adrian was handing the receiver over to Y/N so he could go to check that out, taking his sword from his sheath as he walked. "Hi, Vigilante has gone to - I don't know - do something incredibly reckless, so hi, it's me talking to you now," Y/N greeted the others on the other line, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot whilst keeping one eye on the window as she listened carefully.

"Yeah, he does that often," a male voice said. She knew it wasn't her brother's cause she knew what he and Adebayo sounded like thanks to their previous call, so this must be the one Vigilante named Economos. "You two have limited options, okay? We can't ask for backup or any additional means of transportation, but there should be a wad of cash in the jewellery box in the bedroom."

Y/N went to find that immediately and opened the top drawer of the jewellery box, finding the money neatly tucked inside it. It was only at that point she noticed that this safe house only had one bedroom - which kinda made sense as it's supposed to be small and inconspicuous - but she was a little conflicted about the fact she wouldn't get a 'there's only one bed, we'll have to share' romance cliche was the masked idiot.

"Okay, got it. What now?"

"There's a gas station about four miles down the road. Gather what you need. Pay in cash. Steal a car if it's possible. If it's not, there's a junkyard another two miles east of there that will probably have a working rust bucket or -"

Two shots rang out and thudded into the front door, interrupting Economos and causing Y/N to flinch involuntarily. Five seconds after that the phone line cut off and Vigilante was running in, yelling, "We've got to go now!" He grabbed her hand and began yanking her away from the cabin.

One more body was sprawled by the door - though this one had obviously been decapitated rather than shot that time - and another would hit the deck as the pair went to go around the side of the cabin and come across another butterfly. Once again, Vigilante was quick to draw his gun and shot at it, shooting the damn thing dead and sending it tumbling into the bushes nearby while Y/N watched, dumbfounded.

"You're really good at this!" she exclaimed when the last of the visible bugs were killed. He shrugged (his brain was going fucking wild and he was trying not to show it) and held his free hand out to help her step over part of a fallen tree.

It took them the rest of the morning to find the petrol station and, despite the fact he kept offering, Y/N declined when he offered to carry her. They had a lot of walking to do. It would slow him down, and therefore them down, if she was lazy and continued to be carried around like some damsel in distress - which, yeah, she technically was. She would have to deal with soggy socks that had so many rips and holes in them that she may as well have taken them off to venture into the forest barefoot.

As soon as they reached the gas station, they were both beelining for the bathroom, but since he hadn't surveyed the place yet, when Y/N went to close the door behind her, Adrian was barging his way in. "Hey!" she said far too loudly, so Vigilante pushed her further into the loo with his hand over her mouth.

"Quiet!" he whispered harshly. "There are other people here that can hear you."

"I'm not the one being suspicious! You just shoved a woman into a bathroom dressed in hockey pads and a ski mask, dumbass!" she hissed, yanking his wrist away from her face so she could speak properly.

His eyes widened comically for a second. "Yeah, it would probably make it harder for the butterflies to spot us if I wasn't in uniform," he mumbled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck as he looked up at the ceiling. There was another set of clothes in the bag that he could use. "I'll clean your wounds and then I'll get changed, sound good?"

She made a face. What he said did sound good, but Y/N had some other things to take care of first. "I came in here because I need to pee."

"Okay, then pee." He turned away as he started to unzip the bag to pretend he was really thinking through his clothes choice - there was only one set of joggers and a black shirt, exactly the same as she'd gotten - and not watch her as she peed. He laughed to himself, "Go piss, girl."

Sat on the loo, Y/N reached out to swipe her hand under the automatic drier so the room wouldn't be filled with the sound of her pissing. Hey, everyone's gotta do it, but it's still awkward if that's the only sound bouncing off a gas station bathroom when you're stuck in there with a guy you met earlier that night. It wasn't her fault that his male anatomy meant that he was more than happy to take a break whilst they were in the woods to piss against a tree.

If she knew that hiking was on her agenda that night, she may have invested in a She-Wee.

"I'm, uh, I'm done," she squeaked once her bladder was dealt with. Her face scrunched slightly, but the embarrassment faded when she looked up to see the back of his head. The actual back of his head, showing off the hair that he'd been meaning to get cut because it was getting long enough that it was starting to curl again, and then he turned around slowly and she felt her heart rate spike.

They were staring straight into each other's eyes without any red pane in the way, neither backing down nor looking away, and Y/N couldn't help the smile that spread onto her lips as his lips parted and let out an involuntary breathy laugh.

"Um, hey."

"Hi." His voice seemed to crack, just a bit, and he cleared his throat before he tried again. "Hello."

"Hi," Y/N repeated quietly.

She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and for a second she wondered if maybe she was dreaming - a really weird and violent dream - because this guy was so fucking cute. And hot. Like, super hot. Not just hot, but dorky hot too, with his adorable messy hair, and big, green eyes, the kind of jawline that could cut glass, and those lips.

"What's your name?"

"Adrian."

"Nice to finally meet you, Adrian."

In an instant, his face lit up as he heard his name come out of her mouth and he grinned from ear to ear, looking so relieved that his shoulders dropped down a bit, and the tenseness he'd been feeling about her seeing his face had been building up dissipated.

"I should, uh, y'know, start on your..." He trailed off but gestured to her wounds so she knew what he was trying to say.

"I think the ones on my arms are okay. There's a few on - on my - on my thighs that are, yeah, they're painful," she started, biting her lip before smiling softly, almost shyly.

"Can I see them?" She nodded but stayed perfectly still. "You'll have to... and I don't want you to get the wrong idea here; you're really pretty and, yes, if we were in a totally normal situation and I told you to take your sweatpants off, it would definitely be because I want to eat your pussy, but we're not in a sexy situation so it's for a complete different reason... and that reason is that you'll have to pull your sweatpants down so I can give you medical aid."

Without his mask on, Adrian lost whatever filter he may have had as he stared at her, his eyes wide, his breathing shallow, and it was obvious he couldn't believe that he was saying the words that were coming out of his mouth. He didn't want to offend her - god knows he doesn't want to offend anyone really - but the way she was looking at him like he was some kind of prince that had saved her from distress really made him nervous. He wasn't a prince, he knew that. He was a trigger happy imbecile with no immediate family and no prospects in life.

"Is... is that... is that okay?"

"Yeah, that's okay."

Y/N pulled down her sweatpants slowly, her face growing warmer with every inch of exposed skin exposed to the light, and as she sat herself down on the toilet lid, she braced herself for the moment the hot superhero dude put his hands all over her. He knelt between her knees and ran his fingers gently across the worst injuries first, his face screwing up in concentration. He paused momentarily to look at her thighs before moving on, making sure that her cuts hadn't got infected during their journey out here. Luckily, they hadn't.

Adrian was so gentle with her. It took her all her will not to cry because, fuck, it hurt like hell when he pressed a little too hard or moved a certain way, but she couldn't help it as tears pricked at her eyes, blurring her vision as he worked. When it became apparent to him that she was crying silently, he stopped altogether.

"Hey... hey, I know it feels so bad but you're fucking killing it. You're doing so good." He brushed the back of his hand along her cheek to wipe away some stray tears, leaning towards her and brushing a strand of hair out of her face that had fallen forward to cover one eye. "Just a few more for me, yeah? It'll be over so soon now."

Sniffing, Y/N nodded, hastily wiped at her eye and dealt with it. It was difficult not to squirm underneath his touch, but she managed it. When he was satisfied and gave her a thumbs up that everything was bandaged and cared for, Y/N thanked Adrian by giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek, which earned her an even bigger grin.

Then, it was her turn to look away as he got changed and she resisted the temptation to take a quick glance. That would be rude. He didn't take a peek when she got changed... Did he? She spent her time transferring the first aid kit into the gym bag so they wouldn't have to 1) have two bags, and 2) answer unnecessary questions about why they were carrying a bulletproof suitcase filled with bandages.

Obviously, it's not immediately suspicious to carry around a first aid kit, but it comes with the assumption that they had medical knowledge - neither of them had did - and that ensured that people could ask them questions that they'd have no idea how to answer.

They managed to leave the bathroom at the exact right time to see a drunk driver barrel into the gas station, park up and leave the ignition on as he went inside to buy a four pack of beer, slamming the door shut and giving them a perfect opportunity to steal his pick up.

"We're actually doing a good thing," Adrian reasoned as he drove away. "That asshole was drunk as a fucking skunk and it's, what, 8 am. He could've got in a serious accident and killed an innocent family of Mexicans on their school run."

"Is the fact that they're Mexican relevant in any way?"

"No, I don't know why I added that detail," he shrugged.

He kept checking the rear view mirror every now and again to make sure they weren't being followed as they got back on the road and headed towards the nearest populated area, where they could hopefully find a cheap motel to rent a night or two.

"Do you wanna switch? You've been awake all night. I can drive if you want a rest," Y/N offered, knowing full well how tired he must be after a long, strenuous night of car crashes, gun fights, fireman carrying her, and hiking through nature. Y/N had only done two of those and was feeling the exhaustion.

"Nah. I'm good." He flashed her another bright smile and patted her leg in reassurance. "Thank you, though."

Eventually, they came across a grimy and Bates Motel looking place and, although Y/N wanted nothing more than to sleep, she decided it was best that they check if there's a peephole in the shower. They'd find out that there wasn't one, thankfully.

It was just as dingy inside as it had been outside with its faded yellow paintwork, stained carpet and cheap looking furniture that were probably older than their entire lives combined. The whole motel had a creepy vibe but it was cheap and the receptionist didn't bat an eye when they didn't sign the motel ledger when they checked in. It seemed that they had to swap out comfort for their anonymity.

"One bed," he pointed out as they opened the door and stepped inside.

Ah, her 'there's only one bed, we'll have to share' romance cliche was back in full swing! Y/N smiled, shook her head, and placed a do not disturb sign on the handle before heading in behind him and setting the bag down next to the mini fridge. They stood idly at the foot of the bed for a while, not exactly sure where to go from there. They'd managed to survive long enough to earn a rest and, now it had arrived, neither of them knew what to do with themselves.

"Do you want to use the shower first?" Y/N suggested after about three minutes of silence.

"Sure."

"Shall I order takeout? I saw some menus downstairs that I could grab to see if they do lunch deliveries. Or something."

"On your own?"

It wasn't supposed to sound so patronising but it did, which made him cringe. He meant it as a 'remember aliens that look like ordinary people are after you so going out in public probably isn't the best' but his tone was far too condescending. He looked away, ashamed, and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Shit, he didn't mean to sound that shitty.

"Fine! I'll sit down and - I dunno - read the fucking bible while you show off how competent you are! Wow, Adrian, do you want me to put in a good word for you with my brother? Maybe then he'll actually like you over his weird ass bird!" She stormed towards him and grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him towards her until they were eye to eye, staring each other straight in the eye. "Don't treat me like I'm a fucking child."

The look in her eyes was terrifying - he could tell exactly who her father was at that moment - and he couldn't help but feel intimidated. Adrian had a gun in the back of his trousers and she was completely unarmed, why did he feel so threatened? She was smaller, weaker, more defenceless than he was, and yet there she stood, staring him dead in the eye without blinking, with a look in her eyes that told him he better apologise.

But, he didn't. Words wouldn't form. His brain was running wild and somehow devoid of any coherent thoughts, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, then his focus flitted down to her lips, just for a moment, and then back up again.

"Look, do whatever you want. Shower/don't shower, I don't give a shit. I'm hungry so I'm going to find some way to acquire food and if I get murdered by a bunch of bugs, well, at least you don't have to play babysitter anymore," she said before turning on her heel and attempting to storm out. She didn't get far however; Adrian reached out and grabbed her arm to pull her against him roughly, grabbing hold of her waist, holding her firmly against his body.

For a split second, she froze up, surprised by his sudden display of strength, then attacked him with a kiss that sent both of them tumbling backwards onto the wall. Adrian's back hit an awful picture of Elvis onto the floor as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, lifted her, and pinned her to the exact spot where Mr Presley had been hanging.

"You're so annoying," she snarled as his mouth moved along her neck and sucked on a particularly sensitive part of skin, causing her to gasp sharply and arch her back. Her hand automatically curled up against the back of his head, gripping onto his hair.

"You're a spoiled brat," he countered with a growl as he threw his glasses off and dragged his nose down her collarbone until it was firmly in her cleavage, inhaling deeply as he let a soft sigh escape him. It was intoxicating; she had gotten under his skin, taken control of his heart and made it pound erratically in his chest. If she asked, he would do anything she asked of him without hesitation. Anything.

It took a lot out of him to fight the desire, to keep his emotions in check because he knew it wasn't going to go down well with his BFF, but Adrian couldn't help himself. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in the warmth of her body. All he wanted was for the both of them to forget everything else, for them to live in this moment forever, with her clinging on to him desperately like her life depended on it and his hands travelling everywhere they wanted to.

There was no time for restraint anymore. There was only lust. A primal urge to taste and touch her, taste her and touch her in ways that left her breathless, touched her like it was forbidden, like it would destroy his sanity if it wasn't allowed to.

In 3 big steps, he carried her to the bed and laid her down. Their lips reconnected, their tongues tangling together hungrily, desperate sounds escaping as Y/N yanked Adrian down on top of her and pulled at his clothes to get rid of them as fast as possible. She mumbled, "Take everything off," into his mouth and he did just that.

Adrian stripped down to his boxers as quickly as he could, then did the same for her - although his touch was a lot less frantic and heavy-handed so he didn't press down into her injuries - and just stared at her chest, drinking in the sight of her naked body underneath him.

His attention was so consuming that it caught her off guard. The intensity of his stare was overwhelming and she had no idea how to react to such intense scrutiny. "Stop acting like such a virgin," she complained (half-heartedly) as she propped herself up on her elbows. Despite her words, he could tell she was enjoying his gaze immensely.

"Geez, you really need me that bad, huh? We only met yesterday and you're already so impatient," Adrian teased against the shell of her ear. He nibbled on her ear lobe gently before moving his lips behind her ear directly on her mastoid bone and perching his butt down on her thighs. She rolled her eyes, her cheeks burning, and she averted her gaze bashfully.

And when he added a cocky, "Either you really like me or you're desperate. Maybe it's both," she was tempted to smack the grin off his face, but she refrained from doing so because it was hot. So damn hot. Y/N bit down on her lip to stop herself from insulting him further.

Any and all of her sharp tonguedness vanished as the tips of fingers mapped the contours of her chest, caressing and teasing and leaving goosebumps wherever they went. "What's got you all quiet? Don't tell me you've turned shy, Y/N."

"You're so hot, oh my god," she breathed, saying exactly what was on her mind.

All of his life, Adrian never considered himself to be hot. He'd been a butt baby for most of his existence and had only noticed an increase of romantic interest in him in the past couple of years. Thanks to Vigilante, he knew he was more muscular and well built than he had been but he was still the same big ol' nerd who'd spent his formative years getting picked on and berated for being weak and small and lacking confidence.

One of the hottest people he'd ever seen considered him to be hot? Well, that surely meant that he was hot. It was a fact. And did he need an ego boost l? To those who didn't really know him, absolutely not. To anyone that made the decision to see past the bumbling asshole facade, they knew he needed it desperately.

"Why don't you show me how much you like me? Huh, babe?"

Peacemaker wouldn't be happy that Vigilante banged his sister but, hey, Peacemaker wasn't there. And he certainly didn't need to know that halfway through, the hotel cleaner clearly missed the do not disturb sign and walked right in to find a guy she didn't know with a girl she didn't know on his lap. Judging by her face and the monotone way she said, "I'll come back later," she'd definitely been through that situation so many times before.

They let out a bunch of giggles as the door shut behind the maid, both laughing away the awkward tension of the unexpected voyeuristic incident. Y/N let her sweaty forehead fall to his temple and let out a snort that sent them tumbling into another batch of giggles. It took a few minutes of catching their breaths until Adrian spoke up, his voice laced with amusement.

"I like your laugh. It's very cute."

"Shut up," she retorted a little shyly and hid her coy smile by kissing him. It wasn't an effective concealment, though, because Adrian could feel the way her mouth was upturned against his.

"You wanna start moving again, baby, or do you want me to take over? Cause I think you should cum again," Adrian taunted, gripping onto hips to begin rocking them both back and forth gently.

There wasn't any other interruption this time. They enjoyed each other slowly, unhurriedly, languidly, and it was wonderful to let themselves be held and worshipped and savoured like that, without any expectations or restrictions. And once they were done and satisfied, they simply lay there together.

Y/N glanced to the side, her breath starting to calm, and asked, "Are you a hugger?"

"Not usually." He mimicked her and turned his head to make eye contact. "Are you?"

"Sometimes."

He gripped onto her biceps and tugged her into a hug. She responded instantly, wrapping her arms tightly around him as her cheek pressed itself flush against his shoulder.

"Sorry that I was mean earlier. The stress finally got to me, I guess," Y/N apologised, her words coming out a little muffled because her face was squished against his skin.

"Don't worry about it," Adrian said. "It was super hot."

Another batch of giggles ensued and then, at some point, they just stopped and fell into a daze. It wasn't quite a nap but they weren't fully aware either. They were just quietly existing in the space that they'd created for themselves, content and comfortable.

Sure, actually getting some sleep would've been better. Or showering. Or finding something to eat. But they'd been moving and thinking and planning every single single moment for the past 15 hours and needed a moment to just be.

That was until Adrian's phone buzzed. It was at 7% and they were surprised it was still going strong. "Can you read this for me? I don't know where my glasses are," Adrian requested, handing Y/N his phone which had been resting on the nightstand beside him. He scooted slightly closer and watched as she took over reading it, a frown settling deep between her brows as she read the words aloud.

Unknown: HQ compromised. Stay on the road until further notice. JE will contact you with updates when we have them.

- LA

It took Adrian a while to remember who the initials related to - to make it easy, couldn't Leota have just said her and Economos' names? - and he could see Y/N working out what her life was going to be like for the next however long. She had a job, friends, and obligations she'd made time for that were being pushed to the side because of her brother that she'd never met before. She had no idea what was waiting ahead of her.

Hell, Y/N had no clue if Chris was still alive. What about her mother? How long would it be until they were reunited? Adrian could see the gears turning in her head as she tried to figure out all of the possible outcomes and he wished he could give her something to ease her pain. Even briefly.

"Hey, looks like you'll have to find a way to deal with me for a bit longer," he announced, looking at her mischievously as he started stroking his hand along her bare hip in slow circles.

"Oh no, how will I ever do that?" she replied sarcastically and gave him a fake frown.

"Looks like I'm just gonna have to find a way to keep you entertained," he continued, leaning down and brushing his lips against hers tenderly. Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into his touch, allowing him to deepen the kiss and deepen it even further until it became feverish and passionate yet sweet and caring all at once.

From that point, they were inseparable - partly for survival, partly for their need to constantly be touching each other - and spent the next couple of months bouncing from state to state, city to city, gas station to gas station.

Their first move was to get as much possible of their bank account in physical cash so they took the maximum allowed from ATM's whenever they could. Obviously they were leaving a trail of where they'd been but the wad Economos had left in the safe house wasn't enough to sustain them.

They'd used half of it to buy a banged up minivan that someone had turned into a camper, but they still needed food and clothes and fuel and a charging cable for Adrian's phone.

Neither of them had been particularly well off before this - Y/N was still living with her mother, who at the time of her kidnap had been away on a job interview in the neighbouring state, and Adrian was a busboy that spent a lot of money on weapons - so that money was running out too.

Life in the camper wasn't so bad. It was cramped and tiny, sure, but it was warm and comfy, and it was far easier to flee from suspected butterflies in a house on wheels than have to decide whether to leave all their stuff in some random hotel or take the risk to attempt to retrieve it.

Still, when another update came in, they were more than ready to read it and get back to 'normal' life.

"Darling, your phone just went off," Y/N called out from inside their van, heating up their food from the night before on a tabletop skillet. Adrian was by the creek they'd parked next to, washing blood and dirt from their clothes after their most recent run in with the butterflies, and the moment he heard her, he let a pair of his underwear accidentally drift downstream as he walked away.

On his way to read it, he mumbled, "Smells good, babe. I'm so hungry," and pressed a kiss to her forehead as he passed Y/N, who smiled up at him in a way that made him feel like the most loved man in the world, and was a little confused at first before he realised Economos had sent him coordinates.

He was pushing his hand in her field of vision as soon as he googled where the location was, interrupting her as she was about to give their noodles a mix. Y/N made a surprised face and grabbed the phone to make sure she was reading the screen correctly. "Evergreen? Do you think that means that this is all over?" she asked, a hint of excitement and nervousness in her voice.

Adrian smiled and wrapped his arms around her from behind, his nose poking into her cheek as he confirmed, "I think it means we should start the long drive home."

Y/N smiled and leaned her head back against his chest as she took a deep breath. "Let's eat then get moving," she concluded, laughing when he attacked her cheek with so many excited kisses.

They ate, they got ready, and then they drove. It took them a few days to get back to Washington and Economos' coordinates led them straight to Adrian's house. It seemed that Chris, Leota and Keeya, John, and Emilia had been using his home - without permission but he honestly didn't care - as a base for the past month or so because they'd run out of weapons and thought, 'Where would there be a bunch of unattended weapons that they could use without repercussions for stealing' and Chris remembered the time his buddy showed him his gun collection.

Harcourt and Annabelle had a relatively easy time. Their safe house hadn't been discovered at all in the mess and they only found out something was wrong when John called Emilia for advice about what to do. With the assurance that Annabelle would be fine on her own, Emilia joined her squad to come up with a plan that would wipe out the rest of the butterflies.

And then they managed to find out about a meeting of all of the remaining butterflies and planted a bomb. Completely wiping out an entire race didn't feel great, but they'd been a thorn in the 11th Street Kids side for long enough that that feeling was replaced by a sigh of relief. A 'thank fuck that's over' kind of deal.

Before Y/N had even gotten out of the car, her mother was running out of the Chase home. Annabelle pulled open the passenger's side door and yanked Y/N into a hug. "I'm so glad you're okay, sweetpea! You are okay, aren't you?" she gushed, tears in her eyes as she examined Y/N's face.

"I'm okay, mama," Y/N said, laughing a little. "I've been so worried about you."

"I know, and I've been worried about you too. I whooped your brother and his friend's asses for taking so long to deal with those bug things!"

Peacemaker emerged from the house and Vigilante yelled out a very excited, "Peace! How are you, man?"

"Surprised that a dumbass like you survived!" Peacemaker responded, grinning from ear to ear as he looked at Vigilante. It was obviously still Adrian, but he'd grown his hair out a bit, had a five o'clock shadow, and looked the exact amount of tired you'd assume someone would be if they'd spent months sleeping in their car. "You look like shit, dude."

"Chris!" Both women complained. Annabelle reprimanded, "That is not a very nice thing to say to someone!" while Y/N chose to go with, "I think you look very handsome, babe!"

Then, both mother and son turned to face Y/N and exclaimed, "Babe?!" in shock. Chris was horrified. Annabelle, the opposite - she didn't know the guy but he was her good books for protecting Y/N as well as he had. This hadn't gone exactly the way Y/N thought it would. Honestly, she hadn't really planned anything about how she was going to casually bring up the fact that she'd started a relationship with Adrian, but it definitely wasn't going to be like this.

"Hi," Adrian said, awkwardly, as his BFF and his girlfriend's mother stared at him like he was an alien life form. "Uh... hello."

"Dude! Did I say you could date my sister?"

"No! But you didn't say I couldn't! There were no rules like that!" Adrian turned to Y/N so she'd know that he hadn't accidentally duped her into a 'forbidden' relationship and he repeated, "There were no rules!"

Closing the gap, Y/N comforted her boyfriend with a side hug, a soft "Yeah, I know," and a gentle pat on the chest. "Why don't you show me inside your home, Ade? We've been in the van for so long, I think I'd like to have one night in a normal bed." She then playfully added, "You've got that, don't you?"

Adrian grinned. "Yeah, I've got that."

The pair walked inside to find that his living room had been turned into a technology den of screens and drones and weapons - although those had been there before - and Adrian almost didn't recognise his childhood home. And he definitely didn't recognise the dogs that were running all over the place.

"You have chihuahuas?" Y/N asked, in some surprise.

"No, I'm more of a cat person."

"They're mine!" Adebayo announced as she came in from the kitchen, another dog under her arm. "Sorry! Sorry, I thought Keeya would've picked them up by now. We were all staying here together, me and my wife, John, Chris and Emilia, and -"

"You guys had a sleepover at my house without me being here? That's SO not cool!" Adrian whined.

1) His only friends hung out without him. That sucks. And 2) They did their group slumber party in the very place he owned and lived. That majorly sucks.

"You were literally on the run!" Economos retorted. "And we often thought you were dead!"

"So you decided to steal my house from me?!"

Harcourt gave Vigilante one look, just one, and he stopped whatever he was about to say next. Y/N saw how terrified he was of his boss and part of her was prepared to stand up for her man (despite the fact he was slightly overreacting), but yeah, Y/N had to admit that Harcourt was a little scary and she had mad respect for that.

Everything else that night was smooth sailing. As a big group, they let Annabelle make her signature baked Sausage and cheese rigatoni, and every member of the team ate until they were stuffed and only had enough movement in them to make it to the couch, where they crowded around the TV to watch a bad movie.

There weren't enough seats. Keeya sat on Leota. Y/N on Adrian. Annabelle and Economos a safe distance away from each other on the couch. Chris was sitting on a lazy boy off to the right with Emilia on the floor between his legs. And Peacemaker thought he was being so subtle and slick about playing with the ends of Harcourt's hair, running his fingers through the strands before glancing around every now and then to see if anyone had noticed.

As the movie played on, Y/N dozed off with her temple against Adrian's. She only began to stir when she felt the sensation of being lifted from the couch, and her eyes slowly opened to see that Adrian was making his way up the stairs.

"Are you carrying me to bed?"

"Uh-huh, like my pop used to do for me."

"You're so cute," she slurred, her voice so groggy she wondered how coherent it was to his ears. "You're so cute and so strong."

"Anything else about me that you like?" He urged, hoping that she'd reveal everything because of how sleepy she was.

"I like your smile. It's big."

"Yeah, anything else?"

"I like how you go out of your way to make me laugh."

"I do love your laugh."

"Yeah, well, I love you."

He froze mid-step, an overwhelming giddiness sweeping over him. He'd never expected to even be in this position. He had a girlfriend. And she just professed her love for him! This was better than winning the lottery. Better than finding a huge mob of criminals to shoot in the dick! He loved her too. He was so happy!

"I'll say it back when you're fully awake tomorrow," he whispered before letting Y/N slip onto the bed. She was tugging him down with her, trying to force his body on top of hers.

"Say it," she insisted, pouting like she did whenever she wanted him to give in to her. "Darling, I'd love to hear you say it. Pretty please. Don't tease - " She yawned again. "Don't tease me with this, baby."

"I love you," he said, rolling over and pinning her under him. Adrian grinned down at her, unable to stop the glee from pouring through every pore in his body.

Her forefinger came up to trace his mouth. "Big smile," Y/N yawned out, before moving to get under the covers. "Big bed too."

Adrian laughed as he stretched out beside her, propping himself up on one elbow to watch her as she fell back to sleep. "How'd I get so lucky, huh?" he mumbled to himself.

"When did you get so sappy, asshole?" Chris suddenly said from the bedroom door.

"Shh....she's sleeping."

"Oh my god, you're totally pussy whipped!"

"What are you even doing up here? You saw me coming up here?"

"Economos stunk up the first floor bathroom so I came up here to, y'know, not smell his shit."

"Jesus Christ."

In her sleep, Y/N shifted closer to Adrian, pressing against his chest. He stroked her hair, feeling her strands between his fingers, and he continued to watch her, his eyes tracing every line and curve of her face.

"This is so fucking gross to see," Chris muttered.

"Leave then!" At his raised voice, Y/N stirred. "Sorry. It's okay. It's okay, just go back to sleep," he said, stroking her hair some more.

Vigilante just asked Peacemaker to leave? In what crazy world had they jumped to? Before all this, Vig would do whatever he could to be around Peace for as long as he could. Now? Adrian's idolisation had dampened a little. He'd come to realise that there were other people out there, other people who were willing to be nice and kind and apologise to him, and that he didn't have to put up with all the insults Chris threw his way.

That wasn't a way to have any relationship, friendship or something more, and having Y/N in his life had given him a sense of 'yeah, I'm better than that' that he wasn't going to drop just because his BFF was back in the picture. Plus, he always had the 'I'm banging your sister' card in his back pocket to use whenever Chris got too vulgar.

"You two are really serious then?" Chris asked, his voice a little quieter so he didn't wake his sibling.

"I'd buy a ring if I had the money."

Chris' eyes widened. "You serious?"

"Yeah."

"Ew, I don't want you as my brother in law."

Coming up behind him, Annabelle placed a hand on her son's shoulder. "Hey pumpkin, let your sister sleep in peace, yeah?" She cooed and guided Chris away from the doorway.

Despite his muscles and big stature, Chris seemed to shrink back into a little kid when his mother interacted with him. It always amazed Adrian how much of a pushover he could be. In a small voice, Chris said, "Okay, mama. I will," and went back downstairs without arguing.

"Goodnight, Adrian. Watch over her for me?"

"Always will, Mrs L/N."

"I know you will."

Annabelle left the couple to snooze in peace. And they snoozed for longer than they had done in ages. There was no danger. No need to get up quick and flee. No knocking on the van windows to say 'you can't park here'. Nothing but peace and quiet and the quiet sounds of a house full of sleeping friends and family.

*Click here for my Adrian Chase masterlist, or here for the entire masterlist*

Wanna be added to a taglist? Either comment on this post or send me a message!

[luxury-first-mag]

Bester Nagellack? Die 8 teuersten Nagellack-Marken der Welt

Bester Nagellack? Die 8 teuersten Nagellack-Marken der Welt

Die 8 besten und teuersten Nagellack Marken im Test Porträt Bei der Auswahl des richtigen Nagellackes hat man die Qual der Wahl unter dutzenden von Marken. Es gibt eine Vielzahl von Luxusmarken, aus denen man wählen kann und natürlich unzählige günstigere Marken für Nagellack. Was wird generell von einem Nagellack erwartet und das in einem Nagellack Test immer an erster Stelle steht? Die wohl…

[iamthestyleartisan]

MM6

MM6 by thestyleartisan featuring Jack Rogers

[maggieinthemoon]

Date Night for Movie Junkies

Date Night for Movie Junkies

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Outfit of the Day by Paola Moretti #outfitoftheday #kendalljenner #wrt #jimmychoo #furla #forever21 #tiffanyandco #tiffany #toryburch #creed #smithandcult #paolamoretti #iho #perfettamentechic #felicementechic Pantalone: WtR Scarpe: Jimmy Choo Borsa: Furla Collana: Forever21 Orecchini: Tiffany&Co. Anello: Tory Burch Profumo: Sublime vanilla by Creed Nail: Smith & Cult Fashion Blogger: Paola Moretti Instagram: paolamorettiiho

[chips1977]

WARNING : I'm just an addict ... addicted to music. There are people who are born to make music, o8 thers are born to hearing. Whenever was part of this second group. Maybe it's. a habit, I gotta use, even if it 's rock, jazz or the quiet storm. Great pictures of the things I love - music, painting, books, photography, architecture, design, women, and more. I love music more than lasagna. Better to burn out than fade away. The older you get, the better life gets. But time also seems to be accelerating, the clock running too fast. So, looking at those early days, everything is very slow, stretched, and great significance. The most recent time, I spent busy with simple things.People think rock and roll is only about teenage rebellion, but why can not exist old rebel too? THE RESIDENTS is my Biggest Addiction, and,THE RED KRAYOLA, OLD TIME RELIJUN-ARRINGTON DIONYSO,R. 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DWIGHT FRIZZELL,MICHAEL YONKERS,MOONDOG,THE WORK,RAYMOND SCOTT,THE GO-BETWEENS,SLAPPY HAPPY,ART BEARS,NAKED CITY,HENRY COW,SKELETON CREW,JOHN ZORN,FRED FRITH,THE FIBONACCIS,BONGWATER-MARK KRAMER,SHOCKABILLY,BAND OF SUSANS,THE PAINTEENS,STUMP,RENALDO AND LOAF,CERTAIN GENERAL,THE THREE JOHNS,CHROME,PRIMUS-LES CLAYPOOL,EUGENE CHADBOURNE,ESKIMO, MINUTEMEN, MISSION OF BURMA,FUGAZI,BLURT, GLAXO BABIES,THIS HEAT,THE SEA AND CAKE,SAVAGE REPUBLIC,TUXEDO MOON, XTC,U.S,MAPLE,THE PAPER CHASE,DANIEL SMITH- DANIELSON FAMILE .......  Other musical priorities are: HENRY FLYNT, THE FEELIES,PERE UBU,THE CLASH, JOY DIVISION, PROTOMARTYR, CAR SEAT HEADREST,THE BETTER-BEATLES, DARKSIDE,THE MEMBRANES, THEATRE OF HATE, NOCTURNAL PROJECTIONS,THE LINES,CARDINAL,CLEANERS FROM VENUS,THE JAZZ BUTCHER, ELVIS COSTELLO,THE MONOCHROME SET, TELEVISION PERSONALITIES, ALTERNATIVE TV, GONG,ANNIE ANXIETY, THE DEL-BYZANTEENS, WALL OF VOODOO, BUTHOLE SURFERS, RICHARD DAWSON, MAC DeMARCO,WOVEN HAND,16 HORSEPOWER, DAVID EUGENE EDWARDS,SHELLAC, SLINT-PAPA M-DAVID PAJO, LUNGFISH, OM, EARTH,THE BOOK OF KNOTS,LOUNGE LIZARDS-JOHN LURIE,ANTON FIER-GOLDEN PALOMINOS,PETER BLEGVAD,PETER HAMMILL,TOMAHWAK,FANTOMAS,MR. BUNGLE, MIKE PATTON, SUICIDE-MARTIN REV+ALAN VEGA,AARON FREEMAN,JAPAN,STEREOLAB, SPACEMEN 3, SPECTRUM, SWELL MAPS, SILVER APPES, SWELL,MORPHINE, HAWKWIND, DEVO,FLYING LIZARDS, MAGAZINE, RALPH CARNEY,ROBERT WYATT, JOHN WILKES BOOZE, KEVIN COYNE, DAEVID ALLEN, SLEEPYTIME GORILLA MUSEUM, MX-80 SOUND, SOPOR AETERNUS & The ENSEMBLE of SHADOWS, THE AUTEURS,MAN MAN, DAMIEN JURADO, DAVID DONDERO, CHAD VANGALLEN, LONG FIN KILLIE, MAGIC TRICK-TIN COHEN, CHRIS COHEN, DAVID BAZAN,VAMPIRE RODENTS, JON WAYNE, PRAM,THE OLIVIA TREMOR CONTROL, PAVEMENT, PATTI SMITH, FUGS, PEARLS BEFORE SWINE-TOM RAP, UNITED STATES OF AMERICA-JOSEPH BYRD, FAMILY, GODZ, BONZO DOG DOO DAH BAND,PENTANGLE,THE INCREDIBLE STRING BAND, SLOVENLY, CHEER- ACCIDENT, TARWATER, COIL,THROBBING GRISTLE, SHAWN LEE, CLUTCHY HOPKINS, JURYMAN AKA IAN SIMMONDS AKA WISE IN TIME+SANDALS, ZOOGZ RIFT, THE BOOKS,NEW THRILL PARADE, CHRIS KNOX , DAVID KILGOUR,THE BATS,THE CLEAN,THE PIN GROUP, CRIME CITY SOLUTION, ROWLAND S. HOWARD,TOM WAITS, VIC CHESNUTT, JOE HENRY, ALEJANDRO ESCOVEDO,THE TAPE BEATLES,THE GUN CLUB, MAGAZINE,THE DENGUE FEVER,THE PAPER CHASE,THE FIERY FURNACES,THE MICROPHONES-PHIL ELVRUM,GARY WAR,RAILROAD JERK, KARL BLACK- SOCK HEADDED PETERS-LEMON KITTENS,THE MUSIC TAPES,THE SHAGGS, BOBB TRIMBLE, FISH AND ROSES, DIABLO SWING ORCHESTRA,POP D`ELL ARTE,MLER IF DADA,TOM ZÉ, WALTER FRANCO,OS MUTANTES,CAETANO VELOSO,MILTON NASCIMENTO, ARNALDO ANTUNES,VINICIUS CANTUARIA,JORGE BEN,CAZUZA,CEREBRO ELECTRONICO,CORDEL DE FOGO ENCANTADO,ROGERIO SKYLAB,OTTO, MOMBOJÓ,CRIOULO,MAX CASTRO, METÁ METÁ, ATALHOS, ROMULO FROES,WADO,ORQUESTRA IMPERIAL, LENINE,APANHADOR SÓ,MUNDO LIVRE SA,NAÇÃO ZUMBI, ALÇEU VALENÇA,ANT- BEE, BILL FAY,RON SEXSMITH,EL GUAPO,DAVID GRUBS,TORTOISE, SAM PREKOP, GASTR DEL SOL,HENRY KAISER,HOME & GARDEN, BOB DRAKE, MY DEAD IS DEAD, AKRON FAMILY, SWANS,THESE IMMORTAL SOULS, UNREST WORK & PLAY,THE TAPE BEATLES,THIS KIND OF PUNISHMENT,SWOLLEN MONKEYS (Ralph Carney) LIARS, SNAPPED ANKLES, CAVERN ANTI-MATTER, GANG GANG DANCE, THE DAMAGE MANUAL,THE BLACK ANGELS,SCOUT NIBLET,DIE FORM,LONELADY,COP SHOOT COP,WAR ON DRUGS,THE MONKS,TIM HUEY,TRACHTENBURG FAMILY,THE TRIFFIDS,THE CRUEL SEA,THE MEKONS,THE METOD ACTORS,THE SOFT BOYS,THE MISTAKES,THE MOUNTAIN GOATS,THE NEW CREATION, BRUCE HAACK, LOREN MAZZACANE CONNORS,GLEN BRANCA,ALBERT MARCOEUR,LOS ANGELES FREE MUSIC SOCIETY, SHELLEY HIRSCH,NEW YORK GONG,THE POLYPHONIC SPREE,LYDIA LUNCH,LOVE, LUCIA PAMELA,FATIMA MIRANDA,SAFETY SCISSOR S,RICHARD HELL & VOIDOIDS, SACCHARINE TRUST, ADAM FORKNER of [[[[VVRSSNN]]] YUME BITSU, ROY MONTGOMERY,RUN ON, LOVELY LITTLE GIRLS,SAFETY SCISSORS, BRIDE OF NO NO,TONE DOGS,TREAT HER RIGHT,TRIPOD JIMMIE,LIFTER PULLER,THEY MIGHT BY GIANTS,GANG OF FOUR,THE POP GROUP, WIRE, JOSEPH K, ORANGE JUICE, RAIN PARADE, THE GREEN ON REED, THE RENDERS,SOUL COUGHING-MIKE DOUGHTY, MAZARIN, KARATE- GEOFF FARINA, SECRET STARS,THE CHURCH, BLANK DOGS, FROG EYES, JOAN OF ARC, PURE X, YUNG WU,WAKE OOLOO, SPEED THE PLOUGH, DRIVE BY TRUCKERS, CAMPER VAN BEETHOVEN, MARTIN NEWELL, ERLAND and The CARNIVAL, CRIPPLED BLACK PHOENIX,CALIFONE,RED RED MEAT, LOW, Eels, LOWER DENS,THE BLACK HEART PROCESSION, KING MISSILE, THE NOTWIST, CLINIC, QUICKSPACE,THE COMSAT ANGELS,THE ASSOCIATES, EZRA FURMAN and THE HARPOONS, EFF BARZELAY, BORN RUFIANS, FERGUS & GERONIMO, CHAIN AND THE GANG-IAN SEVENONIOUS-WEIRD WAR-THE MAKE UP,ESCAPIST,MOONFACE, DEAN BLUNT,COLLEEN,ZERO 7,THREE MILE PILOT,LIFE WITHOUT BUILDINGS, CLOUD CULT,BLACKOUT BEACH,PINBACK,ARIEL PINK,MAGIC HOUR,MAJOR STARS, MAPS & ATLASES, MEGAFAUN,MENOMENA,TAME IMPALA, AMPS FOR CHRIST,ARBOURETUM,TRUE WIDOW,NANA GRIZOL,TIMBER TIMBRE,THE, IMPOSSIBLE SHAPES,THE LOVE EVERYTHING,THE MAE SHI, DEAD SKELETONS,THE SHIPPING NEWS,NEW WET KOJAK,GIRLS AGAINTS BOYS,LES SAVY FAV,GERMAN SHEPHERDS,SILKWORM,DIANOGAH,31 KNOTS,90 DAY MEN, 17 PYGMIES,PARENTHETICAL GIRLS, GUN OUTFIT,VAMPIRE RODENTS, PUMA JAW-PINKIE MACLURE and JOHN WILLS, SLUG GUTS, DOG FACED HERMANS, GOD IS MY CO-PILOT, THE SKULL DEFEKTS, CUL de SAC, PELL MELL, FOR CARNATION, MARVIN PONTIAC, ARIEL PINK, FLAT WORMS, AMEN DUNES, IDDLES, WAXAHATCHEE, WOLF PARADE, SUN KILL MOON, NATALIE PRESS ,CHELSEA WOLFE, SHILPA RAY, INCA SILVER, IBEYI, ANGEL OLSEN,THE COMET IS COMING,SLEAFORD MODS, VAGABOND, SUUNS, MADONNATRON, BIG THIEF, FAT, SHAME, SAVAGES, ICEAGE, OMNI, PARQUET COURTS, WHITE FAMILY, LYDA HUSIK, SHARON VAN ETTEN, dEUS, MITSKI, LAUREL HALO,JULIA HOLTER, MARISSA NADLER, JOSEPHINE FOSTER,TRACY BRYANT, MALE GAZE, TY SEGALL,THEE OH SEES, TYVEK, GOAT, WAND,YUCK, THE MOONLANDINGZ, VIET CONG, OUGHT, ALLAH-LAS,THE FRESH & ONLYS, WHITE FENCE, LAURA MARLING, EMA, PHAEDRA, LHASA, FIRST AID KIT, JANE WEAVER, WYE OAK, CAROLINER AKA CAROLINER RAIBOW ... E gosto de viajar, andar de bicicleta, de comboios, de animais.... não gosto de pessoas superficiais... sem cultura.Gosto de dança, de arte o que quer que isso seja!. Não gosto da monotonia. Gosto de criticar no sentido positivo. Não gosto de sonhar em ficar rico. Gosto do “Vive cada dia como se fosse o último “. Não gosto de despedidas. Gosto de pormenores.Gosto de perfumes. Não gosto de mentir nem que me mintam, não suporto hipócritas.Gosto do mar. Não gosto de quem não acredita em nada e não se importa com nada e tem a profundidade de uma colher... Gosto de viajar, gosto de ajudar e de saber que pude ser útil a alguém em qualquer coisa. Não gosto da efemeridade da vida e da constante lembrança da proximidade da morte. Não gosto de não perceber. Não gosto de atrasos e de quem não é capaz de cumprir as suas promessas, não gosto de quem volta atrás com a sua palavra e ainda menos que voltem atrás comigo. Não gosto da cusquice.Gosto de amigos e da camaradagem, não gosto das” amizades “que se perdem por coisas que no final das contas não significam nada... Gosto de palavras e de conversas sem fim... Gosto de pessoas originais, com humor,com ideias próprias... e com classe. Não gosto de carinho quando estou nervoso.Gosto do campo. Não gosto de seguir a onda.Gosto de coisas pouco claras, mas bem esclarecidas. Gosto de dominar. Não gosto de brincar com os sentimentos dos outros.Gosto de toques e de trocas de olhar, de demonstrações de carinho e de cenas sensuais. Não gosto de ficar bêbado até dizer a verdade. Gosto da grandeza das coisas simples, e gosto de coisas complicadas mas não gosto de complicações... O comum não me atrai, gosto normalmente de coisas que passam despercebidas... Gosto de gostar e de não gostar de tudo isto e muito mais...

[elirluna]

rules are simple, choose 50 songs you want to recommend to tagged people and see what they prepare for you (if you decide to do it). you can choose only one song by certain artist !

thanks for tagging @disco-lizardd 💘

shiver - lucy rose

idioteque - radiohead

purple haze - zella day

paul - big thief

a lot's gonna change - weyes blood

gila - beach house

every time the sun comes up - sharon van etten

jane cum - japanese breakfast

as the world caves in - matt maltese

overthinking it - willow

halo - cage the elephant

freaks and geeks - childish gambino

heaven or las vegas - cocteau twins

yazlık - lin pesto

creepin' - hayley williams

bugbear - chloe moriondo

kind of woman - stevie nicks

sunburn - muse

drew barrymore - sza

elsewhere - young the giant

panic - the smiths

michelle - sir chloe

los ageless - st. vincent

mutual core - björk

disappear - beabadoobee

wires - the neighbourhood

satan's a woman - twin temple

underwater love - smoke city

baby you're a haunted house - gerard way

transatlanticism - death cab for cutie

neptune - sleeping at last

it takes a lot to know a man - damien rice

bewitched, bothered, and bewildered - ella fitzgerald

deadcrush - alt-j

pumpkin - the regrettes

howl - florence + the machine

ghost - cirice

miserable at best - mayday parade

nature boy - nat king cole

25 or 6 to 4 - chicago

carry me out - mitski

in your head - nilüfer yanya

all that she wants - ace of base

some things cosmic - angel olsen

desire lines - lush

always forever - cults

penny nickel dime - amp live, anya, prof

ode to my family - the cranberries

tonya harding - sufjan stevens

she used to be mine - sara bareilles

@shortphobe @ameliepoulain @trckingtime @aprilblizzards @kostik @kahloz @aquaxsky @yorkeos idk. anyone who wants to share some music just tag me

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 6, Number 8

Angel Olsen

Now half a year in the pandemic, we’re starting to see the emergence of quarantine records, whether in the trove of reissues hastily assembled to stand in for new product or home recorded projects made with extremely close friends and family or albums that are conceived and written around the concept of isolation. Music isn’t real life, exactly, but it lives nearby. And in any case, it’s still music and can be good or bad whether it’s been unearthed from a forgotten box of tapes, recorded at home without collaboration or side people or technologically gerry-rigged so that distanced partners can work together. So, as long as you all are making music, we will continue to listen and find records that move us, as the world burns all around. This edition’s contributors included Patrick Masterson, Andrew Forell, Tim Clarke, Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Jonathan Shaw, Justin Cober-Lake and Ray Garraty. Enjoy.

+ — #playboy (Deluxe Edition) (self-released)

#playboy (deluxe edition) by +

One of the most genuinely confounding records I’ve heard this year comes courtesy SEO-unfriendly artist + aka Plus Sign fka Emanuel James Vinson, a Chicago rapper, city planner and all-around community activist who spends his time helping with the city’s Let’s Build Garden City initiative when he’s not making music (which is frequent, by the way — take a look at the breadth of that Bandcamp discography). The concept with #playboy, originally released in April but deluxed in late May, is simple: Two kids find a music machine called #playboy in their basement and start tinkering with it. Its childlike whimsy is conveyed in the song titles (“Getting the Hang of It,” “Wake Up Jam (Waking Up)”) every bit as much as it is in the music, with occasionally grating indulgences, the odd earworm and a brief appearance by borderless internet hip-hop hero Lil B that makes perfect sense in context; the kindred spirit of that community-building cult auteur is strong here. You may wind up loving this record or you may wind up hating it, but I can promise you this: You’ll be thinking about it and the artist behind it long after it’s over.

Patrick Masterson

 Actress — Mad Voyage Mixtape (self-released)

I once suggested Darren Cunningham mucks about with his music because he can’t help himself. That was about six years ago on the occasion of his purported “final” album Untitled; with the benefit of hindsight, we can see he was (like so many others, to greater or lesser consequence) just pulling our leg with that PR. Hell, he’s released two albums worth of music in July alone: The first was the mid-month surprise LP 88, which follows in the vein of his acclaimed high period as an often brilliant, occasionally frustrating patchwork of submersible beats best played at high volume with a low end. The second came at the end of the month in an m4a file shared the old fashioned way on a forum via Mediafire link, nearly an hour and a half long, and per the man himself, “All SP-303, sketchbook beats, recorded this past week [the first week of July] straight to recorder or cassette.” It feels very much like a homespun Actress mixtape and is probably best thought of as livelier accompaniment to 88 but, even still, there’s no noticeable drop in quality — once Actress, always Actress. If headier lo-fi beat tapes are your beat, this will slot comfortably in line.

Patrick Masterson

  bdrmm - Bedroom (Sonic Cathedral)

Hull five-piece bdrmm play a satisfyingly crepuscular version of shoegaze on their debut album Bedroom. Ryan Smith, his brother Jordan on bass, guitarist Joe Vickers, Danny Hull on synths and drummer Luke Irvin combine the widescreen sound of Ride with a cloak of gothic post-punk. Like the late, lamented Girls Names, bdrmm find a sweet spot where atmosphere and dynamics either build to euphoric crescendos or bask in bleak funereal splendor. Bedroom seems deliberately sequenced from celebration to lament. “A Reason To Celebrate” evokes Ride at their most anthemic, the tripping staccato driven “Happy” summons the spirit of The Cure of Seventeen Seconds before the pace drops for the second half, the songs become quieter and darker as the band finds a more personal voice. “(The Silence)” is an ambient whispered wraith of a thing, “Forget The Credits” impressively mopey slowcore. bdrmm don’t always transcend their influences, but this debut is an atmospheric treat if your taste runs to the darker end of the musical buffet.

Andrew Forell  

 Circulatory System — Circulatory System (Elephant 6 Recording Co.)

Circulatory System by Circulatory System

Nearly 20 years after its initial release, the excellent eponymous debut album by Will Cullen Hart’s psychedelic chamber-pop band Circulatory System gets a long overdue vinyl reissue. While his previous project, the undeniably great Olivia Tremor Control, tended to lean more towards classic psych-pop’s traditional tropes — hard-panned drums, loads of disorientating tape effects, wonky harmonized vocals — Circulatory System taps into something utterly uncanny. Both Signal Morning (2009) and Mosaics Within Mosaics (2014) have their moments, but this is front-to-back brilliant, conjuring a sublime atmosphere of reflective estrangement. The music is a thick, grainy soup of shimmering instrumentation, from the eerie (“Joy,” “Now,” “Should a Cloud Replace a Compass?”) to the joyful (“Yesterday’s World,” “The Lovely Universe,” “Waves of Bark and Light”), but part of the album’s magic is the way everything flows into a seamless whole. As is vinyl’s tendency, the rhythm section really comes alive here, the fuzz bass and tom-heavy drum parts booming out, with plenty of vivid details in the mix swimming into view. A worthy reissue of an essential album.

Tim Clarke

 Cloud Factory — #1 (Howlin’ Banana)

Cloud Factory #1 by Cloud Factory

Cloud Factory, from Toulouse, France, overlays the serrated edges of garage pop with a serene dream-pop drift. It’s an appealing mix of hard and soft, like being pummeled to death by pillows or threatened gunpoint by a teddy bear. “Amnesia,” for instance, erupts in a vicious, sawed off, trouble-making bass line, then soars from there in untroubled female vocals. Later, “No Data,” punches hard with raw percussion, then lays on a liquid, lucid guitar line that encourages middle-distance staring. None of these songs really up the ante with memorable melodies, sharp words or that intangible R’NR energy that distinguishes great punk rock from the so so. Not loud, not soft, not great, not bad. Cloud Factory resides in the indeterminant middle.

Jennifer Kelly

 Entry — Detriment (Southern Lord)

Detriment by Entry

Nuthin fancy here, folks. Just eight songs — plus a flexing, fuzzing intro — of American hardcore punk. Entry has been grinding away for a few years now, and Detriment doesn’t advance much past the musical terrain the band marked off on the No Relief 7-inch (2016). That’s OK. The essential formula is time tested: d-beat rhythms, overdriven amps and Sara G.’s ferocious vocals delivering the necessary affect. That would be: pissed off, just this side of hopeless. Detriment sounds like what might happen if Poison Idea (c. 1988) stumbled into a seminar on Riot Grrrl; after everyone got tired of beating the living shit out of one another, they’d make some songs. “Selective Empathy” is pretty representative. Big riffs, a breakdown, and more than enough throaty yelling to let you know that you’re in some trouble. You might recognize the sound of Clayton Stevens’ guitar from his work with Touché Amoré — but maybe it’s better if you don’t. This isn’t music for mopery. Watch out for the spit, snot and blood, and flip the record.

Jonathan Shaw  

 Equiknoxx — VF Live: Equiknoxx (The Vinyl Factory)

There’s nothing like a little roots music to get you through the sweltering summer heat, and this early July mix by Gavin “Gavsborg” Blair (half of forward-thinking Kingston dancehall unit Equiknoxx) was a personal favorite of the past month for hitting that spot. The group tends to throw curveballs at the genres it tinkers with, and Blair’s mix highlights why they’re so good at it: The crates run deep. Spanning everything from legendary producer and DJ Prince Jazzbo to in-house music fresh out the box (e.g., “Did Not Make This For Jah_9” was released in late May), Blair sets the mood and educates you along the way. Like everything else these cats do (and that includes the NTS show — support your independent radio station!), it’s hard not to give the highest recommendation.

Patrick Masterson  

 Ezra Feinberg — Recumbent Speech (Related States)

Recumbent Speech by Ezra Feinberg

Knowing that Ezra Feinberg is a practicing psychoanalyst, it’s tempting to read meaning into the name of his second solo album. But be careful to think twice about the meaning you perceive and ask yourself, is it the product of Feinberg on the couch or your own projection? His choice to name one of the record’s six instrumentals (there are voices, but no words) “Letter To My Mind” certainly suggests that there’s an internal dialogue at work, but the music feels most like a layered deployment of good ideas than an exchange of intrapsychic forces. The synthesizers shimmer and cycle like something from a mid-1970s Cluster record, resting upon a pillow of vibraphone and electric piano tones, which in turn billow under the influence of undulating layers of drums. Feinberg’s guitar leads are bright and pithy, like something Pat Metheny might come up with if he knew he was going to have to pay a steep price for every note he played. Ah, but there I go, projecting an implication of adversary process where there may be none. Might it be that Feinberg, having spent a full work week immersed in the psychic conflicts of others, wants to lay back on the couch and exhale? If so, this album is an apt companion.

Bill Meyer  

 Honey Radar — Sing the Snow Away: The Chunklet Years (Chunklet)

Sing the Snow Away: The Chunklet Years by Honey Radar

Jason Henn of Honey Radar has a solid claim at being his generation’s Bob Pollard, a prolific, absurdist songwriter, who tosses off hooky melodies as if channeling them from the spirit world. His least polished material glints with melody hidden beneath banks of fuzz, whispery and fragile on records, but surprisingly muscular in his rocking live shows. This 28-song compilation assembles the singles, splits, EPs and bonus tracks Henn recorded for Chunklet between 2015 and the present; it would be a daunting amount of material except that it goes down like cotton candy, sweet, airy, colorful and gone before you know it. Like the Kinks, Henn has a way of making strident rock and roll hooks sound wistful and dreamy. In “Lilac Pharmacy,” guitar lines rip and buck and roar, but from a distance, hardly disrupting Henn’s placid murmur. “Medium Mary Todd” ratchets up the tension a bit, with a tangled snarl of lick and swagger, but the vocals edge towards quiet whimsy a la Sic Alps; a second version runs a bit hotter, rougher and more electric, while a third, recorded at WFMU, gives an inkling of the Honey Radar concert experience. A couple of fine covers — of the Fall’s early rant “Middle Class Revolt” and of the Monkees rarity “Wind-Up Man”— suggest the fine, loamy soil that Henn’s art grows out of, while alternate versions of half a dozen tracks hint at the various forms his ideas can take. It’s a wonderful overview of Honey Radar so far, though let��s hope it’s not a career retrospective. Henn has a bunch of records left to make yet if he wants to edge out Pollard.

Jennifer Kelly

 Iron Wigs — Your Birthday’s Cancelled (Mello Music Group)

Your Birthday's Cancelled by IRON WIGS

As an adjective, “goofy” had gotten a bad rep in hip hop. Anything that is unusual, inventive and not in line with “keeping it real” is immediately stigmatized as goofy, weird, nerdy and bad. Iron Wigs is goofy but hold the pejorative connotations. Chicago representatives Vic Spencer and Verbal Kent team up here with Sonnyjim from the UK to do some wild rhyming. They collaborated before, but Your Birthday’s Cancelled is a complete, fully fleshed project, masterfully executed from start to finish. Instead of the usual gun busting you get a fist in the ribs. Instead of drug slinging, a blunt to activate your rhymes. Each member of the group has a distinctive delivery which makes you to listen carefully for every verse, no skipping. It’s a relief to listen to rap artists who don’t pretend they’re out in the streets while they’re at home enjoying a favorite TV series. The standout track here is “Bally Animals & Rugbys” with Roc Marciano dropping by for a verse.

Ray Garraty  

 Levinson / Mahlmeister — Shores (Trouble In Mind)

Shores by levinson / mahlmeister

Jamie Levinson and Donny Mahlmeister’s Bandcamp page indicates that they’re based in Oak Park, a suburb of Chicago. This goes further towards explaining their association with Trouble in Mind Records, which is located in the same county, than their music, which brings to mind something much further north. The duo’s music is mostly electronic, with modular synthesizers setting the pulse and sweeping the pitch spectrum while lap steel guitar adds flourishes and a shruti box thickens the textures. The album is split into two, with each track — one is named “Ascend,” the other “Release” — taking up one side of a 50-minute cassette. The first side trundles steadily onwards, and the second seems to bask in a glow to that never totally fades. Since there’s no “Descend,” it’s easy to imagine this music sound tracking a drive into the Canadian north, the journey unspooling under a sky that never darkens, its progress towards Hudson Bay unhindered by other traffic or turns in the road. Perhaps that’s just one listener’s fantasy of easy social distancing and escape from the present’s grim digital glare into a retro-futurist, analog dream. But in dreams we’re free to fly without being seated next to some knucklehead with his mask over his eyes instead of his mouth, so dream on, dreamers. This tape is volume one of the Explorers Series, Trouble in Mind’s projected program of limited edition cassette releases.

Bill Meyer

 Klara Lewis — Ingrid (Editions Mego)

Klara Lewis’s latest recording shows a narrowing of focus. Previously she seemed to be trying ideas and methods on for size, investigating ambient electronics or hinting at pop melody without completely committing. Given the approach to music modeled by her father, Graham Lewis of Wire and Dome, she probably does not feel the need to do just one thing, and that’s a healthy angle if one wants to stay interested and flexible. But there’s also something to be said for really digging into an idea, and that’s what she has done here. Ingrid is a one-track, one-sided 12.” Burrowing further into one-ness, it is made from one looped cello phrase, which gets filtered and distorted on each pass. The effect suggests decay, but not so much the gradual transformation of a William Basinski piece as the pitiless abrasion of a woodworker going over a plank with sander. The combination of repetition and coarsening hits a spot closer to one that Tony Conrad might reach, and that’s an itch worth scratching.

Bill Meyer

Luis Lopes Humanization 4tet — Believe, Believe (Clean Feed)

The cruel economics of contemporary creative music-making favor an ensemble like Humanization 4tet. At a minimum, the filial Texan rhythm section of Stefan and Aaron Gonzalez (drums and bass respectively) and Lisbon-based duo of Rodrigo Amado (tenor saxophone) and Luís Lopes can each count on having the other half of a band on the other side of the Atlantic. But any project that’s on its fourth record in a dozen years has more going for it than the chance to save on plane tickets. For the Portuguese musicians, it’s an opportunity to feel an unabashedly high-energy force at their backs, as well as a chance to drink from a deep well of harmolodic blues. And for the Gonzalez brothers, it’s the reward of being the absolute right guys for the job; it has to be a gas to know that the heft they put into their swing is so deeply appreciated. While Lopes’ name remains up front, everyone contributes compositions, and everyone gives their all on every tune.

Bill Meyer  

 Joanna Mattrey — Veiled (Relative Pitch)

Veiled by Joanna Mattrey

This solo CD, which closely follows a collaborative cassette on Astral Spirits, is only the second recording with Joanna Mattrey’s name on the spine. But Mattrey is no newcomer. The New England Conservatory-trained violist has been playing straight and pop gigs for a while. If you caught Chance the Rapper on Saturday Night Live, Cuddle Magic with strings or a host of classical gigs around New York City, you’ve seen her. But if black dress and heels gigs pay her bills, improvised music nourishes her heart. And if sounds raw enough to scrape the roof of the world nourish yours, this album is new food. The premise of Veiled is finding veins of concealed beauty concealed, and that search impels Mattrey to tune her viola to sound like a horse-haired Tuvan fiddle, clamp objects to the strings and blast her signal through some satisfyingly filthy amplification. And whether it’s a slender tune or a complex texture, the reward is always there.

Bill Meyer

  Angel Olsen — “Whole New Mess” single (Jagjaguwar)

Everyone processes a breakup differently (though, to be fair, that’s probably less true now than ever). For Angel Olsen in 2018, it meant retreating to The Unknown, a century-old church in Anacortes, Washington, that Mount Eerie’s Phil Elverum and producer Nicholas Wilbur made into a recording studio. What ultimately came from those sessions was All Mirrors, but Whole New Mess is a chance to revisit that album (fully nine of these 11 songs are ones you’ve heard before; only the title-track and “Waving, Smiling” are new) in a more intimate framework — just Angel, a guitar, a mic and her reverberant heartache. The most cynical view to be taken here is that it’s a stopgap capitalizing on people’s vulnerability amid a pandemic quarantine, but it could also be a corrective for the bloat of All Mirrors, a record I listened to once and haven’t thought about since. Late Björkian excess doesn’t suit her nearly as well as the light touch delivered herein, and your interest will similarly hinge on how much Whole New Mess sounds like the old one.

Patrick Masterson   

 Ono — Red Summer (American Dreams)

Red Summer by ONO

Ono, the long-running noise-punk-poetry-protest project headed by P Michael Grego and travis, tackles the Red Summer of 1919, evoking the brutal race riots that erupted as soldiers returned from World War I. During that summer, conflicts raged from Chicago to the deep south, as white supremacists rioted against newly empowered returning Black veterans and an increased number of Black factory workers employed in America’s northern factories. Ono captures the violence—and its links to contemporary race-based conflicts—in an abstract and visionary style, with travis declaiming against an agitated froth of avant garde sound. “A Dream of Sodomy” lurches and rolls in funk-punk bravado, as travis declaims all the nightmarish scenarios that haunt his nocturnal hours, while “Coon” natters rhythmically across a fever-lit foundation of hand-drums, mosquito buzz and flute. “26 June 1919” wanders through a blasted, rioting landscape, sounds buzzing and pinging and roaring around travis’ fractured poetry. “White men, red men, Manchester town, send ‘em home, Oklahoma, send ‘em home, in a Black man house, send ‘em home, send ‘em home,” he chants, ominously, vertiginously. The center isn’t holding, for sure. The disc closes with the uneasy truce of “Sycamore Trees,” where steam blasts of synthesizer sound rush up and around travis’ vibrating, basso verses about meeting under the sycamore trees, a metaphor like the blues and gospel and nearly all Black music is full of metaphor about reuniting in a better place. Powerful.

Jennifer Kelly

 Julian Taylor — The Ridge (Howling Turtle, Inc.)

Singer-songwriter Julian Taylor does the little things well. That's not to say that he doesn't do the obvious things well, too, on his latest release The Ridge. His easy voice fits his songs, letting autobiography come with comfortable phrasing. As a writer, he tends toward the straightforward, avoiding extended metaphors or oblique references. The title track considers a particular form of life, and Taylor sticks to the tangible, singing about the stable, “Shovel manure, clean their beds, and prepare the feed for the day.” Taylor's songs make sense of the immediate world and relationships around him, but they avoid woolgathering. The album feels a bit removed from the current climate, but that's no complaint when Taylor's developed a welcoming place to visit. It isn't always easy here, but it's always companionable.

But back to those little things. Each song has carefully detailed orchestration and production. The record goes down easy whether tending toward James Taylor, Cat Stevens or something closer to country, and much of that easiness comes from the precise placement of every note. Burke Carroll's pedal steel, for instance, never exists for its own sake, but to serve the lyric that Taylor sings. The album contains enough space to feel like a rural Canadian ridge, with details drawn into to support Taylor's direct stories. The Ridge could easily go unnoticed (unobtrusiveness not being a highly rewarded trait), but its subtlety and care make it worth taking your boots off and sitting down for a minute.

Justin Cober-Lake  

 Various Artists — For a Better Tomorrow (Garden Portal)

For A Better Tomorrow by Various Artists

Compilation albums loom large in the American Primitive Guitar realm. Takoma, Tompkins Square and Locust all had larger ambitions than merely offering a sampling of wares, and to them, Garden Portal says, “hold my beer. I’ve got some collecting and playing to do.” For A Better Tomorrow started out as a Bernie Sanders fundraising endeavor. But when Bernie bailed and COVID-19 came on the scene, Garden Portal pivoted to support Athens Mutual Aid Network, an umbrella organization that coordinates aid to the underserved in this trying time. But in addition to good works, there’s some good work going on here. Not all of it is guitar-centric, but even the tracks that aren’t are close enough to the strings and heart template of the aforementioned parties to merit consideration under the same rubric. Joseph Allred’s been ultra-productive recently, so it’s actually helpful to be reminded of the spirit that infuses his playing by listening to it one track at a time. Rob Noyes’ “Diminished” takes the listener on a deep dive into the construction of sentiment and sound. And Will Csorba’s Pelt-like blast of fiddle drone, “Requiem for Ociel Guadalupe Martinez,” will put your hair up high enough to make that self-inflicted quarantine do a bit easier to execute.

Bill Meyer

  Various Artists — The Storehouse Presents (The Storehouse)

The Storehouse Presents by The Storehouse

The coronavirus pandemic put the brakes on many things. You doubtless have your own list of loss, but for the proprietors of The Storehouse, the catalog of things kissed goodbye directly corresponds to their endeavor’s inventory of reasons to be. Over the past few years, the Storehouse has invited audiences out to a West Michigan farmhouse to enjoy a potluck meal and a concert played by some musicians of note. If there had been no lockdown, listeners could have enjoyed the Sun Ra Arkestra last April. Instead, no one’s playing, and no one’s getting paid, so the Storehouse has compiled this set of live and exclusive studio tracks to sell on Bandcamp in order to benefit the musicians and the Music Maker Relief Foundation. The cause, is good, but so are the tunes. Want to hear Steve Gunn and William Tyler in sympathetic orbit? Or Joan Shelley pledging her love? Or the first hints of Mind Over Mirrors’ new direction? Step right this way, preferably on one of 2020’s first Fridays.

Bill Meyer

 Z-Ro — Rohammad Ali (1 Deep Entertainment / Empire)

On one of his previous tracks, Z-Ro admitted that he’s basically just writing the same song over and over again (that’s how meta he is now, writing songs on writing songs). While he exaggerated a bit, he was not that far from the truth. In the last half dozen years he’s been writing the same three or four songs in various combinations, reconfigurations and forms. Rohammad Ali follows the same template: haters hate him, but he’s OK and is counting his money. Multiply this by 17, and here is the album. Despite this self-cannibalizing (lots of poets did that), Z-Ro with every new album sounds fresh and far from tired. The self-repeats just fuel him. Rohammad Ali has only one rap guest, and it’s Shaquille O’Neal whose rap career didn’t jump off in the 1990s. A lack of guests only proves that Z-Ro can self-sustain without support from the outside. The only thing from the outside he needs is hate.

Ray Garraty

[talonted]

‘Nail spring’… get it!? Oh come on, what else did you expect from someone who named her blog ‘Talonted Lex’? Everyone loves some pastels for spring, but who says we have to leave the glitter in the festive season? I’ve got three polishes from Cult & Smith to show you today and they are seriously beautiful – inside and out!

It goes without saying that I love the Cult & Smith packaging: the wide and squat bottles paired with the gold, slightly battered lids… just beautiful. Apparently when the polishes first launched, the founder used to bash the lids with a hammer herself to get that look! The lids are a little cumbersome, but I realised half way through the second manicure that they do actually detach to leave a smaller lid for easier application. Doh!

Cult & Smith Exit The Void* is a limited edition polish (those words always do something to me!) and it’s described as ‘a pop of perfect periwinkle’ which I love. The formula was a little chunky but everything smoothed out with a top coat to give a beautiful finish. This was three thin coats.

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Cult & Smith Sugarette* (another limited edition shade) ‘a puff of white smoke’. Whites can be tricky to wear but this has a lovely pearly glow that helps it to look less stark. I’m not typically a fan of pearlised finishes as you have to be quite careful with application, otherwise the brushstrokes can look messy, but I think this is a really pretty colour and finish if you like these types of polishes.

#gallery-0-8 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-8 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 50%; } #gallery-0-8 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-8 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Cult & Smith Glass Souls* – Oh glitter. My one true love! This is a clear based polish that’s packed with multi-sized silver glitter. This paired with ‘Exit The Void’ is a match made in heaven, they just look incredible together, as you can see below. This was ONE COAT of ‘Glass Souls’ and no glitter placement. Such a brilliant formula for a glitter!

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Let’s get a close up of that glitter shall we…. * insert allllllll the heart eye emojis*

What are your favourite ways to nail spring when it comes to shades? Do any of these take your fancy? Let me know in the comments!

Lex

*PR samples. Links may be affiliate. For more information please see the Disclaimer tab at the top of the page.

Nail Spring With Cult & Smith 'Nail spring'... get it!? Oh come on, what else did you expect from someone who named her blog '

[iamthestyleartisan]

Jonathan Simkhai Off-the-shoulder pleated stretch-knit midi dress

Jonathan Simkhai Off-the-shoulder pleated stretch-knit midi dress

Jonathan Simkhai Off-the-shoulder pleated stretch-knit midi dress by thestyleartisan featuring a nail polish

[thedcdunce]

Ladytron

“Just because I'm slightly over the flesh ratio shouldn't mean a damn thing! I've got mechanical rights!” - Ladytron

Real Name: Maxine Manchester

Gender: Female

Height: 5′ 10″

Weight: 1000 lbs (454 kg)

Eyes: Black

Hair: Black

Powers:

Cybernetic Enhancement

Abilities:

Mechanical Aptitude

Weaknesses:

Stupidity

Psychopathy

Coolant Rupturing

Equipment:

Exo-Mantel

Various Hidden Artillary

Universe: 

Wildstorm Universe

Prime Earth

Origin: Born a Kherubim Lord from the planet Khera

Citizenship: British

Base of Operations: Halo Building, New York City

Marital Status: Single

First Appearance: WildC.A.T.s #21 (July, 1995)

Powers

Cybernetic Enhancement: Maxine Manchester is a cyborg, having suffered critical to fatalistic injuries during a police ambush. As such her physiology is mostly robotic and she is built of what Majestros calls 75 million dollars worth in parts.

Flight: Maxine can fly through the use of rocket packs which are housed in her back.

Gun Enhancements: Maxine carry's weapons stored inside her body's housing which can remain entirely hidden until she needs to kill.

Gattling Cannon: Likewise she also possesses wrist mounted blasters on her forearm.

Finger Laser: Maxine can emit a low yield heat beam from the tip of her digits, useful for igniting oil fires.

Automatic Transmission: Maxines bionic frame can channel and cycle varying levels of dynamic energy from most any power source available.

Resistors: Internal function which can ramp up the amp amount pertaining to whatever ergokinetic force she's channeling. Potentially she can kill a Kherubim Warlord with such tactics.

Sound Manipulation: Maxine has a powerful sonic cannon housed in her mouth.

Superhuman Durability: Maxine has withstood powerful blows from aliens and superhumans alike.

Superhuman Strength: Maxine has been seen lifting and throwing cars with relative ease.

Superhuman Speed: Ladytron can run, jump and move faster than most automobiles while on foot.

Superhuman Stamina: Manchester's power source is a condensed fusion reactor running on inexhaustible nuclear power. For all intents and purposes, Ladytron's body never tires nor wears down no matter how much she exerts herself.

Superhuman Reflexes: Despite her brash, impulsive nature. Ladytron is as quick with reactions as she is fleet of foot.

Superhuman Agility: Manchester is able to move more so seamlessly without physical impediment despite her heavy metal.

Enhanced Senses: As a Cyborg, Ms. Manchester's auditory functions are peaked well beyond the human norm.

Enhanced Hearing

Enhanced Vision

Abilities

Mechanical Aptitude: Being a cyborg, Ladytron has a knack for interfacing with other forms of machinery. She can physically link herself up with any on board computerized system in order to commandeer it's functioning for personal use.

Weaknesses

Stupidity: Both a strength and a fault, Maxine Manchester isn't very bright not is she all that levelheaded an individual. Often charging recklessly into distressing situations without pause for thought.

Psychopathy: Being raised by an abusive father and after several motions of negligence between foster homes and penal facilities. Ladytron's psychological and sociological state of mind stands hideously imbalanced.

Coolant Rupturing: Ladytron is powered by a small nuclear reactor which runs the risk of an atomic meltdown should her liquid nitrogen coolant system fail.

Equipment

Exo-Mantel: During her time in a comatose bionic state, Noir modified her body with some additional bionic augmentations that greatly magnified her physical performance. Outfitted with Pincers and razor sharp feet additions giving her a semblance similar to the arachnid family, she could crush and stab her enemies with them as well as flail them about. After the world's end event she had it modified her old mecha body with some Kherubim technology to resemble more of a scorpion semblance. Enabling a semi-even battle between herself and Daemonite Royals Defile and Lady Decadence.

Various Hidden Artillary: Maxine withholds a great variety of hidden firearms on her person, some ranging from handheld pistols to heavy duty munitions wears.

History

Maxine Manchester was abused by her father as a young teenager. She fled from home and turned to a life of crime, robbing stores and killing anybody who got in her way. Soon, the government caught up with her and she was hit several times during a gunfight with the FBI. Her wounded body was handed over to Doctor Khaz, a mad scientist, who enhanced her body, replacing most of it with robotic parts. She escaped and continued her crime spree as a cyborg. Khaz recaptured her and told her about Stanley, a robot he had created before her. Khaz saw himself as father to Stanley and Maxine and sent her out to bring back Stanley. Maxine and Stanley shared the same psychopathic mentality and soon married between crime sprees. Maxine and Stanley decided to kill Khaz, but Khaz had an override in Stanley's brain. The brainless Stanley turned on Maxine and she killed him. She then killed Khaz and returned to her life of crime.

At this time, Savant and Mister Majestic were trying to rebuild the WildC.A.T.s after the previous team were nearly all presumed killed. They convinced Max Cash, alias Condition Red, to join and acquired the Tactical Augmented Organism for their team. Savant wanted another woman for the team and decided upon Maxine. Majestic didn't want to be associated with a criminal like Maxine, but T.A.O. managed to change his mind through his hypnotic abilities.

The new WildC.A.T.s captured Maxine while she attempt to rob both sides of a drug transition and T.A.O. built a virtual reality-program to reeducate Maxine. The program worked and Maxine joined the WildC.A.T.s, but still remained violent and anti-social. She became romantically interested in Max Cash, but he was turned off by her robotic body and her abrasive personality.

When Max got wounded in a bombing, he used the opportunity to sneak out of the hospital to avoid her. Maxine was furious and took out her anger on the man responsible for wounding Max. The man told her and Spartan that T.A.O. had ordered him to bomb the building.

The WildC.A.T.s confronted T.A.O. who turned out to be an evil mastermind after all. T.A.O. inflicted heavy casualties on the team, including Maxine. He managed to remove her cooling systems so that her internal nuclear reactor overheated. Majestic removed her nuclear reactor, but Maxine was heavily damaged. She was taken to the Church of Gort, a cult for cyborgs, robots and Artificial Intelligence, for repairs.

During her stay with the Church of Gort, Maxine became a convert and started to follow the teachings of the Church of Gort. Mister Majestic who had become somewhat of a father figure to Maxine was pleased to see her embrace the tenet "all life is sacred", though she only seemed to recognize mechanical life as sacred. Still, according to him, it was a step in the right direction. But after a schism within the Church, Maxine was targeted by other members for having too many organic parts.

Halo

Maxine fled the Church of Gort and met up with Max's brother Cole Cash. Cole was annoyed by Maxine and left her with the Halo Corporation. There, she overheard that former WildC.A.T.s-member Voodoo had been injured by serial killer Samuel Smith and decided to take vengeance upon him.

Her plan was simple-minded: she visited all hotels and motels in the area to fight anybody listed under the name "Smith". After attacking a few innocents, Maxine met with Samuel Smith, whose superhuman powers turned out to be more than she could handle. The damage was so great that she was deactivated.

Later, her body was reprogrammed and adapted into a more scorpion-like form by Wildcat-traitor Noir to attack Spartan, now known as Jack Marlowe, but Marlowe easily defeated the body. Her body was then used by Grifter, whose legs were broken, as a remote-controlled body. Her personality was encrypted and filed away in the Halo Corporation's mainframe. When Grifter's legs healed, he no longer needed her robotic body.

World's End

After the Reaper clones of the High ruined the Earth and all its resources, Ladytron along with the rest of the reformed Wildcats protected Los Angeles from the Halo Building which was the only location that still had power due to their unending batteries. Mr. Majestic repeatedly attacks the building for supplies to take back to his new home in Hawaii. He asks some of the team to come but doesn't ask Ladytron due to her anti-social behavior. She takes part in the team's missions to find the oasis that was thought to have been made by the original Engineer but actually created by Tumbleweed. Later she and the Wildcats encountered the Daemonites' presence in L.A. and battled them until a shaky treaty was established between one another.

Ladytron was even able to rally a group or robots and cyborgs that were members of the Church of Gort to fight against Daemonites that broke the treaty and she made the city's surviving humans understand that the robots and humans need to work together if they expect to live through this crisis. Nemesis and Backlash later left the team expecting Majestic's offer to relocate in Hawaii but they later send a distress call to the team asking them for help. However, Voodoo, now the group's leader, told Ladytron to stay behind because of her relationship with Majestic; but after the team leave the Daemonites were ready to attack their now vulnerable base. Ladytron was able to protect the refugees and proved herself in stalling the Daemonties, Lord Defile and Lady Decadence. Though she was soon subdued by the two Daemonites high lords, but the Wildcats arrived back on time, and Maxine was saved by the robots from the Church of Gort.

After the Halo Building was destroyed, Maxine and the Wildcats joined up with Team-7 in stopping Tao from becoming a mad god who threatened creation. Just as Tao was forcefully given the Creation Equation by Max Faraday, Ladytron had listened the words that were spoken by Faraday to Tao, and transmitted it into the ears of all the heroes, given everyone and herself possessing the power equivalent to Tao. However, Tao was proven stronger and had each of the heroes facing their own fears, in which Ladytron faced her abusive father which briefly sends her into a terrified and catatonic state. After Tao's defeat, Maxine and the other heroes were then gifted with new, augmented costumes reminiscing to their 1990's attire, in which Ladytron was not totally satisfied with her new look.

Maxine and the Wildcats later heeded to the Authority's call in UnLondon and offered the chance to leave Earth on the Carrier. After the Carrier departed, Maxine participated in the war against the Knights of Khera. Following the Knights' defeat, Maxine was tasked by Spartan in helping and joining with Jackson King in finding Earth's new Doctor as she is potential from being unaffected from mind control since King's previous manipulations from Tao, in which she accepted much to King's great reluctance.

[pibkaprildiary]

Spring Colors On Your Nails

There is something about painting your nails that is so relaxing and satisfying to me. Dont you agree? I am a bit old school in this, even though I enjoy the occasional splurge of heading over to a nail salon and getting my nails done. I always crave painting my nails myself. Its kind of an art, and I have always love painting as a kid. Letting your imagination run wild with the brush. I kind of…

[perfettamentechic]

Outfit of the Day by Paola Moretti #outfitoftheday #loewe #longchamp #geospirit #louisvuitton #lv #furla #pomellato #danielwellington #bottegaveneta #smithandcult #paolamoretti #iho #perfettamentechic #felicementechic Pantalone: Loewe Maglione: Longchamp Bomber: Geospirit Borsa: Louis Vuitton Scarpe: Furla Orecchini: Pomellato Anello: Pomellato Orologio: Daniel Wellington Profumo: Bottega Veneta Nail: Smith & Cult Fashion Blogger: Paola Moretti Instagram: paolamorettiiho