#essex plastic

[fashionsfromhistory]

Dress

Carolina Herrera

2016

Peabody Essex Museum (Object Number: 2018.34.60)

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume 10, Number 5

Arab Strap

It’s lovely out. The lilacs are in bloom. The weather is warm enough to make a sweater/sweatshirt/coat redundant, and the bugs are swarming happily all over the garden. And yet, here we are, inside, ear buds in place, music on high, because however nice the weather, what if we missed something? What if, you, our readers missed something? Well, fear not, because we’re back with another set of short, impassioned reviews. Scottish lifers obsessed with their phones, South African jazzmen nearly forgotten, mumbling rappers, untethered improvisers—it’s all here for you. What, you were going out? Too nice to stay inside? Well, okay, it’ll be here when you get back.

Contributors include Ian Mathers, Justin Cober-Lake, Ray Garraty, Bill Meyer, Bryon Hayes, Jonathan Shaw, Andrew Forell, Christian Carey, Alex Johnson and Jennifer Kelly.

Arab Strap — I'm totally fine with it 👍 don't give a fuck anymore 👍 (Rock Action)

Even more surprising than this Scottish duo’s perversely triumphant return a few years ago is that in 2024 Aidan Moffat is writing more about the internet than about cheating and booze. (He’s still writing about those things too though, don’t worry.) Less shocking is that his laceratingly keen eye is no less effective when turned on his own relationship with his phone, or the way women are treated by the “fathers, husbands, sons and brothers” around them as soon as the deniability of a screen is in place, or the psychology of someone who turns to QAnon. And not just technology; with songs addressing those who’ve never recovered from the early-pandemic hit to their ability to go outside and those capitalism leaves to die in solitude, this might be the least relationship-y Arab Strap LP to date. Malcolm Middleton roughs up their sound again to match the bruised, heartfelt brutality of Moffat’s subject matter and the result is one of the most simultaneously empathetic and unsettling records from a band who’ve never been short on either quality.

Ian Mathers

Bad Nerves — Still Nervous (Suburban)

For their second album Still Nervous, punk rockers Bad Nerves take their ready-made formula and just amp everything up. Everything's loud and fast; the band clearly descends from the Ramones, but they've gone more manic. They secretly mix in flourishes of power pop. Underneath all the ruckus, they have a knack for catchy melodies, guitar solos and even vocal harmonies. Then Bad Nerves rough up the pop elements to make sure their disaffection comes through with enough spite to keep everything properly punk. The record does little to vary mood or tempo, but it doesn't need to. The band does one thing, but they excel at it. The Strokes comparisons the band's received mostly work, but the lo-fi production keeps everything sounding as if it's in an actual garage. “Plastic Rebel” offers a youthful rampage, bubble gummy enough to touch on Cheap Trick, but continually plowing forward. The Essex quintet closes the album with “The Kids Will Never Have Their Say,” an evergreen sentiment for the young and irritable. The point doesn't break new ground, but it's beside the point. Bad Nerves tap into something long running and rush the tradition on with plenty of verve and a hint of bile.

Justin Cober-Lake

Conway the Machine — Slant Face Killah (Drumwork \ EMPIRE)

If it wasn’t for Conway’s name on the copy to the album you’d think this was a long solo producer tapes with 40 guests on it, each mumbling about something nobody’s interested in except for the mumbler himself. It is not an exaggeration: it really lasts more than an hour, has close to 20 guests (depends on how you count) and even though Slant Face Killah is produced by a dozen of people the beats all sound the same. If it already sounds awful even for the diehard Conway fans, grip for the worst part of it. It ain’t even worth the trouble to skip all the tiring guest verses for the Conway verses because they are not good anyway. A total failure.

Ray Garraty

Alex Cunningham — Rivaled (Storm Cellar)

Remember October 2020? The time of still-subdued traffic, no shows and a looming election? Rivaled is an artifact of that moment. Nowadays, Alex Cunningham is an intensely active improviser, based in St. Louis but active all around the middle of the USA. Back then he was stuck at home and moved to make some noise. “Faith” and “Void” offer two paths to obliteration. The former is pretty plugged in, with electronic effects and appropriated radio noise turning Cunningham’s violin into a full-on electrical storm. The latter is unreliant upon electricity, but maybe even more dogged and savage. Originally released as an edition of 20 cassette, Rivaled is now a CD with a bonus remix that mashes both tracks together, both vertically and temporally, like a piggybacked highlights reel. Of noise relaxes you, you’ll want this close at hand when the next election rolls around.

Bill Meyer

Dun-Dun Band — Pita Parka Pt. 1: Xam Egdub (Ansible Editions)

Dun-Dun Band is an all-star cast of characters comprising some of Toronto’s most creative musicians and led by musical polymath Craig Dunsmuir. Dunsmuir is a shape shifter, trading guises and styles for decades: a guitar loop conjuror known as Guitarkestra, a purveyor of mutant disco vibes alongside Sandro Perri in Glissandro 70, a welder of minimalism, dub, and avant-garde weirdness as Kanada 70. His Dun-Dun Band collects members of Eucalyptus and Badge Époque Ensemble along with stalwarts Colin Fisher, Karen Ng, Josh Cole and Ted Crosby. Pita Parka is the group’s debut on vinyl and features three extended cosmic jazz jams that fuse multi-horn interplay to African-inspired polyrhythm. The music slyly winks at 1970s fusion but is more akin to that of modern ensembles such as Natural Information Society. The extended nature of the pieces allows the reedists to stretch their lungs and roam around, and for the rest of the ensemble to engage in creative interplay. Pita Parka is a stellar offering from some of Toronto’s finest players and one of the city’s most inquisitive and inventive minds.

Bryon Hayes

Roby Glod / Christian Ramond / Klaus Kugel—No ToXic (Nemu)

The three participants in this session are all veterans of middle European jazz that’s free in spirit, if not always in form. Bassist Christian Ramond and Klaus Kugel are from Germany, and soprano/alto saxophonist Roby Glod is from Luxembourg; their collective cv includes work with Kenny Wheeler, Ken Vandermark and Michael Formanek. Online evidence suggests that they’ve played together as a trio since 2015, which explains their easy rapport and nuanced interaction, but this is their first CD. Freedom for these folks means having the latitude to linger over a tune or to settle into nuanced timbral exchanges, but if you carded them, they’d all have jazz driver’s licenses. This music swings, often at speed, which is a very important aspect of their shared aesthetic; the excitement often comes from hearing Glod invent intricate, evolving lines that are lifted off by fast walking bass lines and kept in the air with light but insistent cymbal play. While the album is named No ToXic, the sheer pleasure of hearing these guys lock in could truthfully be labeled counter-toxic.

Bill Meyer

Göden — Veil of the Fallen (Svart)

Longtime listeners of death doom will recognize the name Stephen Flam, guitarist and co-founder of storied band Winter whose Into Darkness (1990) concretized the subgenre in the US; the record was great, and still is. For his recent work with Göden, Flam has dubbed himself “Spacewinds,” and his bandmates follow suit, with stage names that are equal parts risible and ridiculously gravid: vocalist Vas Kallas performs as “Nyxta (Goddess of Night)” (those parens seem to be her idea…) and keyboardist Tony Pinnisi appears as “The Prophet of Göden.” Okay. This reviewer’s inexhaustible appetite for Winter’s slim output disposes him to think kindly of Flam, and there’s nothing especially terrible about Veil of the Fallen — but that’s only because there’s nothing all that special about the record. The sound of the title track is appealingly austere, and the NyQuil-chugging riffs of “Death Magus” are sort of fun. But any listeners hoping for flashes of the inimitable, awesome awfulness of Winter would be well advised to recall the meaning of inimitable. Not even Flam, it seems, can provide a convincing replica of those energies and textures.

Jonathan Shaw

Mick Harvey — Five Ways to Say Goodbye (Mute)

Former Birthday Party and Bad Seeds member Mick Harvey looks back at his life on his autumnal new album “Five Ways to Say Goodbye.” Although he contributes only four original songs, his skill as an arranger and interpreter reaches its zenith. Harvey imbues his own and others’ songs with intense emotion that never tips into melodrama or histrionics. Augmenting his acoustic guitar with evocative string arrangements which provide counterpoint and color to his lyrics “When We Were Young and Beautiful” may be the finest song he has written; poetic in structure, elegiac in feeling, Harvey faces his past with dispassionate empathy for lost friends and acceptance of where he is now. His version of David McComb’s “Setting You Free” locates a Faustian menace in the song, using the strings to carry the dynamic thrust and emphasize the turbulent ambivalence of the original. “Like A Hurricane” becomes an intimate, piano ballad. By changing the tense from present to past and stripping the song of its rock roots, Harvey creates an emotional impact missing from Neil Young’s original. On “Demolition” Harvey replaces Ed Kuepper’s funereal drums with an off-kilter drum machine that clatters like an old projector to evokes the disconnections inherent in the lyrics. Harvey’s treatment of songs from The Saints, Lee Hazelwood, Lo Carmen and Marlene Dietrich are beautifully rendered. A wonderful summation of Harvey’s often underrated talent and an album that deserves a wider audience.

Andrew Forell

I Like To Sleep — Bedmonster’s Groove (All Good Clean Records)

This combo from Trondheim, Norway started out bridging the sound worlds of Gary Burton and Sleep. That’s a canny move if you’re looking for relatively untrodden ground, and as it turns out, a successful one. On Bedmonster’s Groove, which is album number four, the trio has dialed back the heaviness; you won’t hear a power chord until the beginning of side two. Instead, they have taken a turn towards experimentation. The microscopic applications of filters and effects give confer a variable glitter to Amund Storløkken Åse’s vibraphone, squeezable padding to Nicolas Leirtrø’s six-string bass, and some texturable variety to Øyvind Leite’s drums, which are all shown to good effect by some lean grooves and uncluttered melodies. Åse has also added some instrumentation; synths flicker and swirl in the empty spaces, and a mellotron heads a deliberate charge towards prog territory.

Bill Meyer

Kriegshög—Love & Revenge (La Vida Es un Mus)

Throughout the long existence of Kriegshög, it’s been customary to identify the band as a d-beat act. Love & Revenge is Kriegshög’s first release since 2019 and only its second LP in their (at least) 16 years of playing in and around Tokyo. Prolific, they ain’t, but the music is always worth waiting for. On this new record, the band rolls back the pace a bit and amps up the crusty, metal textures. Less squall and rampant chaos, more muscle and riffs that roll up in well-worn biker leathers — but all those qualifiers are relative. There’s still a raw edge to the production (if that’s the term we want…); the bass is laced with so much fat crackle that you’ll want to fry it and eat it. Sort of fun that one of the most volatile tunes on Love & Revenge is titled “Serenity.” Make of that what you will, but don’t spend too much time thinking about it. You’ll miss the next couple songs.

Jonathan Shaw

Niels Lyhne Løkkegaard and Quatuor Bozzini — Colliding Bubbles: Surface Tension and Release (Important)

Niels Lyhne Løkkegaard is a composer based in Copenhagen. On his latest EP he joins forces with the premiere Canadian string quartet for new music, Quatuor Bozzini, to create a piece that deals with the perception of bubbles replicating the human experience. In addition to the harmonics played by the strings, the players are required to play harmonicas at the same time. At first blush, this might sound like a gimmick, but the conception of the piece as instability and friction emerging from continuous sound, like bubbles colliding in space and, concurrently, the often tense unpredictability of the human experience, makes these choices instead seem organic and well-considered. As the piece unfolds, the register of the pitch material makes a slow decline from the stratosphere to the ground floor with a simultaneous long decrescendo. The quartet are masterful musicians, unfazed by the challenge of playing long bowings and long-breathed harmonica chords simultaneously. The resulting sound world is shimmering, liquescent, and, surprising in its occasional metaphoric bubbles popping.

Christian Carey

The Ophelias — Ribbon EP (self-released)

Ribbon is stormy, scathing and often quite beautiful. “Soft and Tame,” the EP’s emotional center, is all three. It begins wistfully: easy acoustic guitar strums and Andrea Gutmann Fuentes’ layered violin, nostalgic and close to sweet. Vocalist Spencer Peppet also starts slow, talking us through the aimless sensory motions of missing someone – “the sun on my cheek/as I walk around/I pick up a pear/I put it down/the radio plays a song we loved.” It doesn’t take long, however, for the skies to darken and the scene to become bleaker. By the line “the hollow sound/my jugular makes as it rolls around,” Mic Adams’s foreboding drums and a percussive creep of electric guitar have stalked in. And by the time Peppet has shown us “an overturned bus on the highway,” heard a“tornado warning” and told her subject to “stay the fuck away” for the second time, the band has built to a blown-out, climactic frenzy, the violin finding operatic heights over mammoth cymbal crashes.

In her review of The Ophelias’ last album, Crocus, Jennifer Kelly described Peppet as sounding “like she’s tilting her chin up and squaring her shoulders.” Likewise on Ribbon, where the band seems resigned to but also quite prepared for a fight. If “Soft and Tame” is aimed to knock “love in southern Ohio” down for good, then “Rind,” the final song, may tell us why they’re in the ring at all. At a brief break in the dynamic, flowering arrangement — it could be a particularly bucolic Magnetic Fields instrumental, especially in Gutmann Fuentes’ spry riffs — Peppet bursts out, “There you go!/On tour with my hometown friends/fucking score/they must have all forgotten!/Look back at what I tolerated.” There’s more to the story, but Peppet pulls back from the fray, settling things ominously: “to name it/makes your life/a little complicated.” Whatever “it” is, The Ophelias seem to have landed their punch. I don’t think I’ve heard more cutting, triumphant “Oohs” than those that end the song and Ribbon’s multifaceted fury with it.

Alex Johnson

Paperniks — Oxygen Tank Flipper 7-inch (Market Square)

Jason Henn is a master of catchy psychedelic punk. Honey Radar, his highest profile outfit, has unfurled a constant stream of hook-laden gems for well over a decade. Paperniks is his newest guise, a solo home recording project that amplifies the Guided by Voices meets Syd Barrett vibe of Honey Radar and doses it with nuggets of guitar noise. This tiny slab of wax is the sophomore Paperniks outing, following a single-sided lathe cut that strayed toward the clamorous edge of the octopus’s garden. On display are a pair of tunes that bear a striking resemblance to Honey Radar. “Oxygen Tank Flipper” is a groovy dose of psych replete with a catchy riff and a roller coaster bassline. Handclaps up the catchiness factor, as does Henn’s honey sweet sigh. “Essex Poem Dial” is a punky, garage-inspired tune. Henn’s reverb-soaked vocal hides inside the propulsive guitar chime. A noise interlude leads to a mellow vignette that slowly fades away. Paperniks showcases Henn’s boisterous side, and the music is certainly engaging, so hopefully there are more songs on the way soon.

Bryon Hayes

Ribbon Stage — Hit with the Most (Perennial/K)

Ribbon Stages hits the giddy sweet spot between punk and pop, their raucous guitar-drums-bass racket pounding on sweet, wistful little songs. The mixture varies with some cuts veering into the snaggle-toothed dream pop of, say, the Jeanines, while others rage harder and more dissonantly. “Stone Heart Blue,” the single, pulls the drums way up in the mix and lets distorted guitars and murmured vocals do battle attention behind them. The result is an uncanny balance of urgency, angst and solace, which is exactly what you want from pop-leaning punk. “Hearst” pushes slashing tangling guitar racket up to the foreground, letting a billowing squall spill over crisp drums and shout-sung vocals, while “Sulfate” lets a sighing romantic croon loose over boiling lavas of rock mayhem. Nice.

Jennifer Kelly

Rio Da Yung OG — Rio Circa 2020 (Boyz Ent)

This is exactly what the title says: a compilation of Rio songs stashed on the label’s HDD, no more, no less. No filler but no hits either. The tape has a “Circa 2020” feel to it, reminding us of when Rio did what he wanted with no shades of doom hanging over the songs. It’s unlike the music he wrote after the trial when he knew he had to do some time. There’s a little bit of everything in here: three songs with RMC Mike, two tracks featuring Louie Ray, a song on a Sav beat, a song on an Enrgy beat and a song on a Primo beat. Yet it’s hardly enough to last us until Rio is free.

Ray Garraty

Spirits Rejoice—S-T (Fredriksberg)

Spirits Rejoice! by Spirits Rejoice

A remastered reissue of a 1978 recording, Spirits Rejoice captures boundary-crossing South African jazz scene, which touches on fusion, rock, funk, soul, disco Latin and African sounds. The ensemble includes some of that time and place’s pre-eminent jazz musicians, Sipho Gumede of the fluid, loping bass lines, breezy, insouciant reeds-man Robbie Jansen, South African pioneering percussionist Gilbert Matthews, keyboardist Mervyn Africa and a very young Paul Peterson on electric guitar. The music is ebullient and clearly tilted towards pop accessibility, and the gleaming sheen of 1970s often dilutes its heat and fury. This is especially true on “Happy and in Love” which could double as a lost Earth Wind and Fire cut. Elsewhere, though, as in “Woza Uzo Kudanisa Nathi,” fervid polyrhythms, tight squalls of sax and an exhilarating call and response light up the groove, fusing African chants with a swaggering samba rhythm. And “Papa’s Funk,” is just what it sounds like—a slithery, stuttery, visceral bass-led swagger that bubbles and smolders and twitches in a universal funk.

Jennifer Kelly

Various Artists — GmBH: An Anthology of Music for Fashion Shows 2016 – 2023, Volume 1 (Studio LABOUR)

GmbH: An Anthology of Music for Fashion Shows 2016-2023 Vol. 1 by Various Artists

LABOUR is a multimedia project of Iranian musician Farahnaz Hatam and American percussionist/composer Colin Hacklander. Based in Berlin, the duo has collaborated widely and eclectically to produce soundtracks for sustainable, underground fashion house GmBH. This compilation collates 12 examples and showcases a variety of work from an international roster of artists including Iraqi-British oud player Khyam Allami, Turkish born DJ Nene H, Kuwaiti musician Fatimi Al Qadiri, American performance artist MJ Harper and Indonesian noise duo Gabber Modus Operandi. The thread that runs through all this is cross pollinations between genre, geography, and chronology. Allami’s oud plays against LABOUR’s electronic washes and synthetic percussion with each element emphasizing and interrogating differences in modality and structure. On “White Noise” LABOUR contrast a 16th century harpsichord piece with static and effects dissolving into a robotic club beat which ends up evoking a cyborg Hooked on Classics. Their collaboration with Harper on the spoken word “ablution” is a reflection on love, religion, and abnegation with elements of gospel, eastern and creeping doom ambience. The Anthology has much of interest but is essential for Belgian composer Billy Bultheel’s “YLEM” featuring German countertenor Steve Katona who soars incandescent from a backdrop of industrial grind. The contrast between earthly weight of the music and radiant purity of the voice is breathtaking.

Andrew Forell

Vertonen — taif’ shel (Oxidation)

taif' shel by Vertonen

Give the Oxidation label credit for radical truthfulness. One of the bummers of our time is the frequency with which folks on BandCamp and elsewhere will call a short-run, blue or green-faced disc a CD when they are selling you a CD-R. Oxidation, on the other hand, is named after the process that will eventually render its products unplayable. On to the sounds. Vertonen is Blake Edwards, who has been working around the edges of sound for over 30 years. On taif’ shel, he displays absolute mastery over the combination of collected, electronically generated and carefully edited sounds. His skill rests on three qualities; knowing where to place sounds, knowing how long to let them carry on and having some pretty good ideas about which ones to use in the first place. He can make a drone of infinite (but never unnecessary) complexity, or punctuate flipping film-ends with a precisely situated, never repeated sequence of chops and splices, to name just two examples found on this impermanent but thoroughly rewarding disc.

Bill Meyer

Villagers — That Golden Time (Domino)

That Golden Time is Villagers’ sixth album. The Conor O’Brien led project presents its most eclectic outing to date. A number of the songs are afforded pop treatment, consisting of memorable tunes and gentle, polished arrangements. The double-tracked vocals on “First Responder” is a case in point, about a relationship fragmenting while the singing coalesces, an interesting tension. “No Drama,” initially pared down to piano and O’Brien’s laconic vocals, eventually adds a coterie of Irish traditional instruments. “Keepsake” veers closer to mid-tempo electronica, with overlaid synth repetitions and treated vocals. The title track employs sustained violin lines, played by Peter Broderick, and an intricate form with supple harmonic shifts. “Brother Hen,” on the other hand, recalls the folk influences present from Villagers’ beginning. The diversity is diverting, even though That Golden Time feels like a collection of singles instead of an album statement.

Christian Carey

[g-xix]

what’s your opinion on the hate towards faith kelly with people saying she has plastic surgery and that?? also people saying ethan should leave her

Heya mate, my opinion is that men in particular see Faith Kelly with hatred because of their lack of understanding, and moreover, a lot of them already hate Faith, and just choose to pick on her because they want to see her get grilled even more.

Towards the beginning of the introduction of Faith into the Sidemen fandom, everyone thought she was class. She made cute TikToks with him, she was (still is) gorgeous, she was the embodiment of a good girlfriend because she was new and nobody had any reason to dislike her.

As more of her personality grew and people began following her and what she did and said, I think lots of women began empathising with her, whereas lots of men began disliking her more and more.

Her first big controversy was the "Why the fuck did the pornstar sit on Ethan when Faith, his GIRLFRIEND was literally carrying his baby."

That was a BIG drama which I think reaaally divided the whole of the male and female demographic of the Sidemen fandom. Most women ((including myself)and some logical men) could empathise with Faith, because WHY did Ethan let that situation get that far? Having a girlfriend and letting a woman sit on you is bad behaviour on it's own, but the to extent of having a PREGNANT GIRLFRIEND, carrying YOUR BABY, allowing that to happen is absolutely stupid. Especially when Ethan had NUMEROUS opportunities to get up or say no to Mia Malkova sitting on his crotch, nonetheless.

And alternately, many (immature) men thought that Faith was overreacting, because look! Ethan's a YouTuber! He's an e n t e r t a i n e r... he gets a pass for these things because he just did it for a YouTube video, it's fine! To which I say... Shutthefuckupthat'ssomebullshit. It wasn't really a highlight of the video. It wasn't the funniest thing- it wasn't even really good content. The only "good" content that came out of it was Faith's TikTok's or Ethan having to explain himself on Sidecast's, and the only reason people enjoyed that was because they were allowed an opinion on the conflict and could watch the beef play out whilst also adding fuel to the fire with all their snide comments and keyboard warrior-ing.

It was really stupid in my opinion, that whole Mia Malkova, Sidemen Tinder conflict, because it shouldn't have happened; Ethan should've known better.

But that's the start of the Faith Kelly hate train. A few other things that have contributed to it are:

The fact she doesn't want to take Ethan's last name and rid her own. Ethan wants her to take his last name, "Payne". She wants to keep some of her family name and made a compromise, agreeing to go for "Payne-Kelly". I feel like Ethan's patriarchal values really spoke to me when he threw a little tantrum at the idea of that.

"permission slips": the name given to the action of Ethan checking with Faith whether he's good to go out. People called it "micromanaging" and "controlling" from Faith, but that's literally basic communication? Tell your partner you aren't available and check that you haven't got plans with them or signed up to something else beforehand...?

The podcast. Because apparently if you aren't interested in what they're doing and saying, you can't just scroll by without hate-commenting.

The fact that she has an Essex accent. People hate it and say "God I could never date a girl that sounds like that"... Then don't?

Her nose. Because she has a nose which literally fits the beauty standard, but some people still found ways to get angry.

And now there's the whole problem with the fact she got surgery.

I personally don't think there's a problem with getting surgery in the first place. If you're insecure about something and that's holding you back, change it; we have surgery available to all for a reason and if it's safe to do so, I see no problem with it.

Faith got bits n bobs of surgery done when she was younger, and she cleared up on an Instagram story, and which is also evident on an old clip of her on some TV dating show.

She had cheek fillers, chin fillers, jaw fillers and lip fillers (which I'm certain of, I don't know of any others if i'm honest). And that was because she didn't like her face shape and thought that to be more pretty, she ought to get those done.

Since then, she's used 5ml dissolver (im not too sure what exactly she said she got done but there was the number 5 somewhere, and she said that all filler had now DEFFO been dissolved) and gotten all filler removed from her face, leaving her with a softer, more heart shaped face and what is in my opinion, an overall prettier face. Beauty of course is in the eye of the beholder.

Now whilst I can empathise with Faith for being insecure when she was younger and thus getting surgery which she in later life dissolved as she realised she was happy with her face, I know that the male "Faith-Hating" population cannot.

This is likely because of the belief that plastic surgery = fake, fake, fake = bad, bad, bad. This is quite a common view which I believe that men and older generations uphold; surgery is for those who focus only on aesthetics and makes you fake which means you aren't naturally pretty aka makes a woman worth less. A very crude explanation of the patriarchal view on plastic surgery.

I think this view is quite shallow and superficial in itself because it lacks engagement with a what? argument, because whilst males can identify that women (may) get surgery out of insecurity, they cannot engage WHAT the problem with that is.

What is the big problem regarding a women deciding to change her face slightly? What does it matter to you if someone makes their lips slightly puffier? What effects does it have on your life whereby you feel the need to then go onto Faith's page and tell Ethan that HE NEEDS TO LEAVE HER!!!!

Hence moving onto the "Ethan should leave her" opinion, I think it's absolutely shocking.

Lacks grace, etiquette and fundamental respect to HARASS someone who you look up to- someone who you (perhaps) IDOLISE just to command them that they must leave their girlfriend.

And I've seen these comments time after time.

Why do they tell Ethan that he must leave Faith?

Because of the permission slips. God forbid having a girlfriend that controlling, that she'd want to know when her boyfriend wouldn't be home so that she can plan out her day accordingly.

Because she argues with Ethan on the podcast. Quite ironic that their little bickers over the little things have people thinking that they are always arguing and completely toxic. Wait til those fans hear about banter between friends.

Because she's "the type" to cheat. This one was mind-bogglingly stupid: people were telling Ethan that Faith is the type to cheat, whilst she claimed to have a little celeb crush on Haaland. For those who don't know, this is Haaland:

He obviously isn't an absolute stone cold stunner, but he's quite sweet. A little celeb crush on him is v reasonable. But for some reason, these thickos just cannot understand that having a celeb crush DOES NOT MEAN SHE'S GONNA CHEAT!!!!!

The whole REASON for a celeb crush is the sort of idolisation that someone is so cute and dreamy and that it's find to have that crush because it's not like you'll ever meet them or have a chance with them... i mean, that's literally the definition of having Hall Passes in relationships!

I bet the situation would be 10x bloody worse and somehow still anti!Faith, if Ethan said that he had a celeb crush on... idk SELENA GOMEZ or someone famous n gorg like that, and Faith said "what so you'd cheat on me for her?", voicing Ethan's fans in her Haaland-situation.

And I think a lot of these scenarios follow that logic.

Flip the roles around- assume Faith said/did the things that Ethan does to her, but instead did those to Ethan...

The Sidemen incellular-fanboys would go off their rockers. How dare she! She's such a cheater! He should leave her!

In summary, I think the spawn of the hate towards Faith Kelly is born out of patriarchal, hypocritical double standards from a male demographic of teenaged Sidemen-fans who cannot yet develop empathy and understanding to anything Faith does, and due to their own self-important ignorance, refuse to even try empathise with Faith and thus instead of choosing to educate themselves and understand- they take the easy route and decide to send her sexist and unjust hate instead.

Sorry for the waffle and hope that makes just enough sense for atl one person to read this and think "you know what, that isn't half untrue"

[not proofchecked, ignore spelling errors]

[moonah-rose]

Ten Questions For Silver

(Transcript of Alison interviewing my ghost oc for the Button House Archives)

Alison, recording/writing: Ten Questions For Silver. Okay, this isn't officially the first one but, I gotta ask it anyway, why the name change?

Silver: Two reasons. One, I always hated the name Louise. Bullies at school used to call me Louis or Lewis or, my favourite, Loo Face.

Alison: Fair enough.

Silver: Second reason, when I got into Wicca all the books said it was common to choose a more 'witchy name'. Silver is my favourite metal and corresponds with the moon. Robyn - with a y - because Robin Hood was always my favourite Disney hero as a kid.

Alison: Did you fancy the fox?

Silver: I might have fancied the fox, I think we can all admit to that.

Alison: No comment.

Silver: Plus the birds are pretty. No relation to a certain annoying caveman, just a coincidence. And Ravenstar because...it honestly just sounded cool.

Alison: Gotcha. Okay, onto the real questions. Where were you born?

Silver: Under the sign of Pisces, on a waxing moon evening-

Alison: I meant, like, geographically.

Silver: Oh. Colchester General, Essex.

Alison: And how did you die?

Silver: Julian keeps telling everyone I O.D'd on magic mushrooms, which is obviously a lie! It was a brain aneurism. Honestly, I just think he likes to make it clear he wasn't the only ghost who was high as a kite when he croaked.

Alison: *snigger*

Alison: Favourite food?

Silver: I was a bit of a chocoholic in life. Galaxy, Thorntons, Milky Bars, Munchies! Thank the gods my uncle was a dentist.

Alison: Hmm.

Silver: Ooh, if I had to pick one, it would be Echo bars!

Alison: I remember them. They got discontinued!

Silver: Noooooo! That's the saddest thing I've ever heard!

Alison: Sorry! Moving on then, favourite drink?

Silver: White Russian vodka. It was my first proper cocktail on my sweet sixteenth.

Alison: Nice. Favourite song?

Silver: Bring Me To Life by Evanescence. Which is kinda ironic, the more I think about it. Do you remember them?

Alison: Yeah, I was more a Girls Aloud sort of kid.

Silver: Oh. Plastic.

Alison: Sorry?

Silver: Nothing!

Alison: Uh huh. Favourite sport?

Silver: *long, drawn out groan* I guess...telling my teacher I was on my period to get out of P.E.

Alison: *snigger* I did that too.

Silver: Unless it was trampolining! That was pretty cool. And really hard to lose at.

Alison: Biggest regret?

Silver: Never getting to kiss a girl.

Alison: Aww, you died before your first kiss?

Silver: Oh no, I kissed loads, but they were all boys and...it was like 'meh'? I started realising I was more into girls but...never got the chance to 'test drive' if you get me. Fuck, that sounded misogynistic. I need to spend less time with Julian.

Alison: Well, you never know. It could still happen in your afterlife.

Silver: That's what Mary said. Don't suppose you happen to know any fit queer girls you could bring here and...?

Alison: What? Murder?

Silver: In a nice way! Painless and all that.

Alison: Is that not against your whole Wiccan code of not harming anyone?

Silver: Not if you do it.

Alison: Right. Well let's just stick in a pin that idea for now and I'll think about it, okay.

Alison: Fondest memory?

Silver: Oh, that's hard. There's a few from when I was alive, visiting Stone Henge with my dad, the first time we brought home my dog Jess when she was a puppy. But I guess I'd have to go with Winter Solstice 2009.

Alison: What happened there?

Silver: Well because of the whole, y'know, sleeping curse thing, I often miss out on major events, including holidays. Even the Sabbats, my pagan festivals. But that Yule fell on a full moon so I got to be awake. Even better, the guys all joined in with me and Robin to do our ritual! Even Mary got involved. She made herself to penance for weeks after but she joined in that night for me and...shit, I'm getting a bit teary now. I just never imagined I'd have friends like this, you know?

Alison: Aww! That is really sweet. Maybe I can join you guys on the next one?

Silver: That'd be cool. Fanny did the math and said the next full moon on the Solstice is...I think she said, 2038?

Alison: ....I'll set a reminder. And until then we can just have a little mini Christmas when you wake up around that time.

Silver: Yule. Not Christmas. Though it's basically the same, the Christians stole everything that's fun from pagan traditions. The tree, the wreath, even Father Christmas, they're all from Norse and Celtic culture, did you know that?

Alison: Yes, both you and Robin went on a very long rant about it when I was putting up the mistletoe.

Silver: That was mainly to keep Thomas away from you.

Alison: Oh! Then thanks for that.

Alison: Worst Trait?

Silver: I've been told that I can be too opinionated and that I also 'infodump' my interests to people when they're not interested, but I honestly think people just need to try to have more of an open mind, if they just tried to look outside their own bubble they'd be surprised what they could learn, I mean look at Mary, when she first met me she had all these preconceived judgements and misinformation about witchcraft but when she took the time to listen I went into all the history-

Alison: (Author's Note: my wrist began to cramp from attempting to write this answer down so I let Silver continue talking while I quickly washed the dishes, did the ironing and sorted mine and Mike's dinner for the evening before sitting back down with her).

Silver: -and now she understands that the devil of her religion and the Horned God of my practice are two separate entities, and that was just another lie spread by the church to make us seem evil when we're not.

Silver: Sorry, what was the question?

Alison: Oh you already answered it, it's fine.

Alison: Final question. Do you have any words of advice?

Silver: Don't do drugs.

Alison: That....makes sense.

Silver: Nah, I'm just kidding. Uh, to quote my favourite other dead person; speak as you find and don't let any man take away your voice.

Alison: Wow. She really was special, wasn't she.

Silver: (a/n: she nods, suddenly quiet and staring at her hands)

Alison: You okay?

Silver, smiling: Yeah, I'm just...still really bummed about those Echo bars, you know?

Alison: Yeah, I miss them too. Thank you, Silver.

Silver: Thank you. Blessed Be and Merry Part.

Alison: ....Indeed.

[yourlocalviolet]

First of all I love you for writing Johnny ff!! So if its alright I have a request :) The reader, posing as a new recruit for the Last Men, is tasked with infiltrating The Preserve to gather information on the group. They meet Johnny, and the two form an unlikely bond. Johnny begins to question his loyalty to the Last Men, while the reader struggles to balance their mission and newfound interest

(Gif not mine, All credits to original creator!)

Thank you so much, im glad you enjoy it! Also, thank you for the request! im thinking of writing another part to this, so look out for that!

______________________________________________________________

Getting into the Essex Zoo compound was much easier than you thought it would be. When Dolly had first asked you to go undercover, you were skeptical. Hell, you flew airplanes for a living, and even the tasks you had done in the past were nothing compared to what she was asking you to do now. Challenging a group such as the Last Men was a risk, one you weren't sure if you were willing to take at the time. 

You didn't want to imagine what they would do to you if they found out what you were doing.

Pushing that thought out of your head, you continue taking steps through the entrance of the zoo. Now, you were standing in a small area, with plastic coverings around the wall. “Stick your finger out.” the man says to you. As you do so, you take a second to take in his appearance. He’s tall, and dressed in a large orange hazmat suit. The man pauses for a second longer than he should. “Do you have your ID card?” He finally says, and you feel your heart drop down to your toes. “Yes, uh, of course!” You force out, perhaps too quickly. Swiftly, you feel around in the pockets of your green jacket, until your hands hit the cold plastic card. “Here it is,” you say, as he takes the card from your hands. Silently, you pray that he cannot tell that it's a fake. “Huh.” He states, and the tone in his voice makes him seem surprised. “Shit, am I that bad of a liar?” you can't help but think. “Okay. Go on in.” As he says that, you hope that your face doesn't show how surprised you are. Briskly, you take the card back and turn from the man, your heart almost beating out of your chest. 

As you walk out of the plastic coated area, you can't help but silently gawk at how well taken care of the preserve is. From the plants to the people, everything seems like it has a certain place it belongs. However, from what you've heard about the general, you couldn't say you were surprised. People say he is a man with a charismatic personality at first, but truly sadistic tendencies when examined closer. You knew he would do close to anything to ‘save humanity’ or whatever that meant. This included torturing innocent children, so you had a slight feeling you wouldn't get along that worked under him. As much as you would like to stay as far away from the man himself as possible, you knew at some point you needed to be given directions from him. However, General Abbot didn't seem to be anywhere nearby. You cursed yourself for your bad luck as you looked around for someone that you could ask for help. You knew you needed someone who seemed small, and not like a threat. As you are scanning, you spot a young gardener, tending to some plants nearby. “Uh, Hello” you say, attempting to get her attention. “Do you know where I should go to get another chore?” She looks up at you, and you try to seem nervous. “I finished mine already, and I'm new so I don't really know-” she cuts you off before you can ramble on. “Relax, it's fine. All you need to do is go to the tall man standing on the podium. The boss is out right now so he's in charge.” You turn your body to see where shes pointing. “Oh, okay, Thank you” you say, and you begin making your way to where she directed. 

As you walk, you can slowly see the features of the man she pointed to. He was tall, rather skinny with glasses, and seemed fairly nervous himself. It surprised you that he was the one in charge, as you wouldn't have deemed him as a threat in any other situation. “Hi, um, I came to ask for a new task?” you say when you reach one of the ends of the podium, as the man looks down on you. “Oh, okay!” He states, and he seems unsure of what to say. “Well, did the General not give you a list?” You begin to panic. Did the others get lists and you didn't know? Would this blow your cover completely? Or could you possibly play it off to the man that didn't seem to know what he was doing? “Oh, uh, funny story actually..” you mumble out, attempting to come up with anything that would get you out of this situation. “I lost it! I may have thrown it away or something.” You say, and he nods his head at you, seemingly thinking of what to do. Suddenly, he begins moving down the stairs towards you. “Right, uh, okay.” he says, and you begin to think he could see through your lie. As he reaches the ground next to you, his eyes visibly trail down your body. For a second, you are skeptical if he really was that obvious about it.  “Um, how about you, uh…” He pauses, obviously unsure of what to say. “Clean the windows?” he finally says, seemingly more nervous than you. Did he really believe you? Or was it just because he found you attractive? You pause for a second before you respond. “Okay. I hate to ask, but could you show me where to get the supplies?” As bad as you may feel later, you know that if he is charmed by your looks, he would be an easy way to rise in the ranks.

 He seems to fidget more by the second after you respond. “Right, yes, i'll lead the way…” he trails off while walking towards a hallway. “Sooo, what's your name?” You ask, attempting to sound interested in him. “Im Johnny,” He says, turning his head slightly to look at you behind him. “You must be new? Most workers know me by now.” If he hadn't been turned away from you, you're sure his face would be red, just from the way his voice slightly cracked near the end of his sentence.

 However, you couldn't lie to yourself, the man was attractive. Not necessarily in a lustful way, but more of a cute puppy love way. His haircut, an odd mixture of a mullet and a shaggy looking bowl cut framed his face nicely, and his glasses mixed in with it made him seem unthreatening. You are snapped out of your thoughts when he clears his throat and turns to you. “Well, this closet should have everything you need. You can probably just clean the windows in the back, so it shouldn't take you long.” He says, obviously avoiding eye contact. “Great. Thank you.” you tell him, and he begins walking back down the hallway, before he abruptly turns back towards you. “Also, uh, don't be afraid to ask if you need anything. I'm not very busy here so…  y’know.” You're about to thank him again when he seems to remember something. “Have you gotten a room yet? Not that I'm asking in a weird way! I just want to make sure you know where you're going…” He trails off at the end nervously. You smile at him softly, attempting to comfort him. “No, I haven't actually…that would be great, if you could show me after I'm done here.” You softly reply. “Great, yeah, okay” He says softly, more to himself than you. Almost stumbling, he turns around quickly and walks away, obviously happy with himself. And although you know that Johnny himself is working for the same army you're against, you can't help but feel excited knowing you will get the chance to see him again. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Around three hours later, you had finished cleaning the windows. By now, your fingers were pruned and your wrists aching from the continuous motion you were making. All the while, there was one person you couldn't get off your mind. Johnny. The man that had seemed so nervous was infecting your thoughts little by little. You weren't exactly sure why, but as much as you denied it, you couldn't really bring yourself to care. Snapping out of your thoughts of Johnny, you begin to wonder where you should go from here. Would staying here and waiting for him be easier? Or should you go and search for him yourself. Right now, you silently decided that the latter was the better option, and you wouldn't mind getting a better look at the place you would be staying in. As quietly as you can, you begin walking up the large stairwell, making an effort to seem like you knew where you were going. As you turn to the left, you are met by another staircase, and a small kitchen. Behind you seemed to be much more intimidating, as you could see a large chain wire fence linked between the walls. As much as you would have liked to ignore that section of the zoo, you knew that your mission depended on the information behind that fence. However, the real question was was it a better idea to wait until you have more authority? Or would it be better to go quickly now, and get the mission over with? As you were caught in your head, you failed to hear the footsteps on the staircase. “Oh, What are you doing here?” A voice says, bringing you back to reality. For a second, you swear you can feel your heart stop. You don't want to look up at the man, fearful of what soldier may be there to take you away. Forcefully you turn your body towards the man, and relief washes over you. “Oh, Johnny, funny seeing you here.” You say towards the brown haired man. “I was actually just looking for you!” You internally note that his head seems to raise when you said that. “That's great actually, I was just finishing up here and was going to come look for you. Do you, uh, wanna come with me?” He says, seemingly unsure if he's allowed to bring you with. Now, it seems like you have the perfect excuse to explore the places of the reserve you once couldn't. Knowing you shouldn't let your anticipation show however, you try to make your response as relaxed as possible. “Sure! I don't mind at all!” Johnny nods at you, then turns his body towards the kitchen. He then grabs a plate of what seems to be beans, on top of an oven crisped slice of toast. While you couldn't say that it seemed very appetizing, you continued your steps as he walked around the small space.  As you follow him closely to and up the stairs, you are met with what seems to be a small living space. One thing that would be impossible to miss is the woman standing in the middle of the room. She's incredibly pretty, and you wonder what someone like her is doing in an awful place like this. Everyone seems awkwardly quiet until Johnny breaks the silence. “Beans on toast! Yknow, since your british…” He says, as he mocks her accent at the end of her sentence nervously. Neither of you laugh at his joke, the two of you seemingly much more tense than he is. However, he doesn't seem to realize this, or if he does he plays it off well. He sets the plate down on a table, and there seems to be a light bulb going off in his head. “Oh, right, introductions!” He nervously laughs. “Uh Rani, this is (y/n), (y/n), Rani…” It takes you both a second to process what is going on, and there's a pause before either of you speak up. Quick words of greetings are mumbled out, before you move closer in attempts to shake the woman's

 hand. However before you can get closer, she quickly backs a few steps away. “Sorry, I don't like germs…” She says after obviously seeing your slightly taken aback face. In attempts to stay polite you assure her it's no big deal. And while your response was civil, you could easily see that she was lying. Johnny seems to notice the tense atmosphere, and quickly tries to brush it off. “Well, we better get going. Work stuff, yknow.” He seems to state this more than ask. You give Rani a short wave before you disappear with Johnny back down the staircase, and you question if you want to ask Johnny about her. When the two of you hit the last stair, it seems that Johnny has read your mind. “I'm sure you're probably wondering about why she's up there. Ill tell you, but you have to be quiet about it, alright?” He says in a playful tone, and you nod your head in return. “Don't freak out but… She has the virus.” His voice is hushed as he says this. You turn to him in surprise. “Wow, I thought a lot of things, but definitely not that.” You say to him. “Yeah well, thats not even the full story. Her husbands a worker here too, and hes trying to-'' he seems to be caught in his thoughts before he cuts himself off. “I probably shouldn't be telling you that.” He says, adjusting his glasses nervously. “Oh, don't worry, I won't tell anyone.” you say in a small attempt to comfort him. Abruptly he stops at a doorway, like he just remembered what he was supposed to be doing. “This is your room! It's small, but it should work fine.” He says, and your surprised with how quickly you got here. As the two of you exchange goodbyes, you let yourself relax in the small room you were given. While it seemed more of a prison cell than a room, you were thankful for the privacy that came with it.  As you laid on the small cot, you couldn't help but think of the man you met today. Already, he seemed to have a hard time keeping secrets. While this would be helpful for your mission, you found the trait quite charming. Also, the woman with the disease filled your thoughts. Well, not exactly her, more so her husband. What was he trying to do? And how hard would it be for you to get Johnny to tell you? While you weren't sure how long you were going to be at the Zoo, you did know that the information you needed was under hard locks. But maybe, the key you need is Johnny, who seems more than happy to talk. 

You struggle to fall asleep as thoughts run across your brain. Unnervingly however, most of them are not about the mission. Instead they are invaded by a tall, brown haired man with odd looking glasses. All the while, you pretend that your interest in him is because of the mission, telling yourself there is no other reason. 

Deep down however, you fear that this awkward man you met may be one you won't be able to leave behind. 

[brunchable]

Conflict Resolution Chapter 4 — 30 minutes || Surgeon!S.S. × Asian!Reader.

Warnings: Coarse Language, Sexual Elements, Medical elements, Arguing, Bickering

Pairings: Stephen Strange x Asian!Reader (OC)

Summary: You and Stephen go to dinner as per the homework Dr. Sofen assigned to the both of you.

A/N: I have no ownership of this story, all credits go to Kate Canterbary for her book, The Worst Guy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Stephen

"What else?" Stephen asked Essex. He paced the sidewalk across the street from Pastoral in the Manhattan neighbourhood while his neuro fellow murmured a few lines from an old Snoop Dogg song through his earbuds. It was fucking freezing out here but he was a minute early, and he'd take all manner of damp, bone-chilling wind if it saved him from dealing with Park. At least for one more minute.

"I think that's the last update I have for you," he said. Stephen could hear him flipping through his notebook and the ambient noise of the hospital around him. "For now, that is. I will come up with something soon enough."

"Please don't complain to me about the general surgery fellow grabbing another case out from underneath you again," he said, giving the restaurant a resentful glance.

"Did you hear me complain? Because I didn't. You extrapolated a complaint about that case-thieving sneak from my overall report. The last time I complained out loud was when I was an intern and had so many pagers, my scrubs kept falling down."

That was fully inaccurate but Stephen wasn't interested in debating that with him now.

"And how many pagers does it take to drop your pants, Essex?"

"Yeah, this sounds like a fully appropriate question," he snarked. "And for your information, it was nine. Nine pagers. Urology, trauma, ENT, cardio, surgical oncology, colorectal, vascular, limb salvage, plastics. What a fucking nightmare."

Stephen stifled a groan at the mention of plastics and frowned at his watch. He was going to have to go in there and get this over with soon. He wouldn't put it past you to break a chair over his head if he rolled in ten minutes late. He shoved his hands into his pockets as another gust of cold, raw air blew in off the water. He hated the way summer bumped and stumbled into autumn here, starting and stopping like there was some serious question over whether seasons were supposed to keep on changing. And then, after cold snaps and heat waves and hurricanes, there was always one day in October, just like today, when it all collapsed and the debate was over. Summer was finished, autumn was here to stay, and he fucking hated it.

Stephen hated wintry weather and all the nonsense that went with it. Snow, ice, everything. Goddamn, it was awful.

"Anyway, that was a night I wouldn't wish on anyone," Essex said.

"What?"

"Did you dip out on me there? You do that a lot, Strange. I have to check the paperwork but I think you're supposed to pay attention to me. You're also supposed to be teaching me, not flaking out in the middle of my twenty-car pileup story, but that's a neglect I've come to accept from you."

It had taken me a bit to get his arms around it but he now understood this was Essex's personality. He was obnoxious in a jaded, cynical way, though he never pretended he was in this business for any altruistic purpose. He thrived on ego and half-baked contempt for everyone.

Stephen understood it too, even if he didn't function the same way Essex did. But the guy had a dry, silly side too and it often came out in stories about his intern years in Minnesota, his assertion that Stephen didn't teach him enough, or riding the line between delinquent and savant.

Essex was a brilliant surgeon but not a single day went by without Stephen wishing he'd known all these quirks of Essex before selecting him for a two-year fellowship.

"What would you like me to teach you while you're recapping the greatest hits of your intern year?"

"You could start by explaining how you organise your shit. I bent down to tie my shoes and it took me twenty-five minutes to clean up the mess from my pockets projectile vomiting all over the place. It was a fucking yard sale, man."

"Sounds like a personal problem." Stephen glanced at the restaurant again. He was notably late now. "Could you…uh, do me a favor? Could you give me a call in forty-five minutes?"

"Is that when you slip into a bath? Glass of pinot, chocolates, fizzy bath bomb? Get your me time?"

"What? No. I might need a reason to—" Stephen stopped, neither wanting to nor knowing how to explain this. "Forty-five minutes. I might teach you something interesting tomorrow if you can save me tonight."

"Sold. Setting a timer now." With that, Essex ended the call.

Stephen popped his earbuds back into their case and accepted the fact he had to go inside, sit down with you for significantly longer than he could bear, and talk to you without rolling his eyes out loud. He was going to fail his ass off. It was warm inside the restaurant and he spotted you immediately.

You were frowning at your phone while typing, pausing, deleting, and typing again.

"Excuse me, sir? Are you meeting someone?" Stephen glanced around to find the hostess with a stack of menus cradled in her arm.

"Uh. Yeah, but—"

"Would you happen to be the most insufferable, arrogant surgeon in the entire city? If so, I can show you to your party." Stephen shifted to face the hostess fully.

"How much did she pay you for that?" Stephen reached for his wallet. "Whatever it was, I'll double it if you—"

She held up a hand and shook her head with a grin. "No, I'm pretty sure I'm on her side."

Stephen shoved his wallet back in hid pocket. "How righteous of you." Stephen jerked his chin in your direction. "My insufferable arrogant ass will lead the way. Thanks."

He reached the table in a few long strides, yanked back the empty chair, forcing a rough squeal of wood scraping over the stone floor. You startled, your phone dropping to the table and a little gasp slipping past your lips.

"Arrogant, huh?" Stephen asked, dropping into the chair. "Insufferable too? How long did it take you to come up with that scheme? Did it take all week? Or did lightning strike while you were waiting?"

You leaned back, folded your arms across your torso. That move had the unfortunate effect of reminding him that you were a pointlessly beautiful woman who could wear the shit out of a turtleneck sweater. But he didn't care. Really, he did not.

You could wear all the sweaters you wanted and have all that long, black hair and be annoyingly, disturbingly beautiful and he didn't have to care. Not his problem.

"You're late," you snapped.

"You were late on Thursday." Stephen reached for the menu waiting at his place setting and gave it a quick glance. "Seemed only appropriate to return the favor."

With a glare that could dilate blood vessels, you collected your phone and tapped the screen. You set it in the centre of the table with a pointed nod. After holding your glare through several blinks, Stephen glanced at the screen. "What's that supposed to be?"

"It would help if you could make an attempt at critical thinking," you replied. "It's a timer. There's no reason this should exceed thirty minutes."

Still staring at you, Stephen raised his hand into the air. Soon, a server appeared at his side. "Hey there, folks. Can I interest you in—"

"A beer, please," Stephen interrupted. "A wheat, nothing pumpkin." Stephen blinked at you. "The margherita pizza."

You arched a brow up as you said, "The bucatini, please. No arugula."

"Anything to drink?" the server asked.

"Water is fine, thanks," you replied.

"And what about nibbles for the table? Calamari, eggplant frites, burrata—"

"No," you and Stephen said in unison.

"Okay, then," the server murmured. "I'll get that right in for you."

Once you're alone, you slid an index card across the table. "Five things about me. There you go."

Stephen peered at the card. "Did you buy a package of index cards just for this purpose? Or do you have index cards lying around? Like you're an intern presenting at rounds for the first time? Do you still make notes for rounds? Please tell me you're past the index card phase, Park. I couldn't stand it if I knew you were walking around with little color-coded notes every day."

You regarded him with a smug grin that made it pretty clear you'd rip his face off if he took his eyes from you for a second. "You're the kind of teacher who abuses interns and residents, then? Do you throw things too or is it just shaming and torment?"

"You are the one with the track record with projectiles." Stephen plucked the beer from the server's tray and drained half of it before continuing. "And I'll have you know I'm a great teacher—"

"I'm sure you think so," you interrupted. "And that's fantastic for you. Really, it is. But I don't have a single fuck to give about any of that because I'm walking out of here in twenty-three minutes. Fork over your five things, Strange."

A snarl sounded in his throat as he studied you. He couldn't stop staring at you. It was mostly self-preservation but a shred of confusion lingered there too. He had so many questions right now but the first and most essential among them was: Who the hell was this woman and why did she kill for sport?

He set the beer down, folded his arms on the table, and leaned in close. "I don't think this is what Karla had in mind when she said we were supposed to get to know each other," Stephen whisper-growled. "If you could just be nice—"

"You want me to be nice?" You whisper-screeched right back. "Nice? That's what you want?"

"It wouldn't kill you."

"But clearly it will kill you," you said. "Seeing as I've made a point of being nice to you since moving into the building and you've—hmm." You tapped a finger to your chin.

"Right, yes, you ignored my pleasantries. And now you'd like me to be all sugar plums and lemon drops because it suits your purposes?" You shook her head, that maniacal grin still pulling up your pale pink lips. "I don't think so. No, I don't think so."

Stephen took his time responding to that attack and finished off his beer. He was drinking too fast and practically inviting a migraine into his day tomorrow but he could barely think about anything other than the dark haired ball of fury seated across from him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He set the empty glass on the table and ignored a sudden, perverse interest in what you were wearing with that turtleneck.

You'd been seated when he arrived and you hadn't yet leapt up to bludgeon him with a saltshaker so he was clueless as to whether you wore jeans or a skirt or—fuck, he didn't even know. And he didn't care. Not at all. Which was why he ignored that thought entirely.

"I am talking about saying hello to you in the hallway," you replied.

"Right. Let me see if I understand this." Stephen reached for your glass of water and drained it while you gaped at him. "I didn't give enough attention to your chirpy little greetings so you went all tiny tornado on an exam room, and you're going to hold it against me until you can find a way to be rid of me, even if that involves strangling the life out of me with your precious plastic surgeon hands. Do I have that right?"

Okay, so he knew he was an asshole. He knew this. And now you did too. You gave your empty glass a mortified stare before meeting his gaze.

"We both know the exam room was an accident and fully unrelated to our prior interactions outside the hospital. I am not going to revise history with you. I am not going to be nice simply because it makes you comfortable."

"I don't remember the last time I was anything close to comfortable. Okay? Whether you screech at me or not won't change that." Drumming his finger on the table, he continued, "I'm just saying we have to get through this thing. We shouldn't kill each other in the process."

The server arrived with the meals and another round of drinks, which was a huge fucking relief because Stephen urgently needed something to do with both his hands and his mouth. But he made the fatal error of glancing across the table as the server set your dish down—a dish topped with a whole damn field of arugula. Not only did they not hold the greens, they seemed to treat you to an extra helping because there was no way that was the standard quantity.

Stephen watched you purse your lips together and he figured he was in for another explosion now. You'd send that dish back so hard, the chef would set fields of arugula on fire. But you said nothing when the server asked if there was anything else we needed. And you blinked down at the heap of curly greens, fork in hand, like it was a project you'd inherited and didn't have the heart to abandon.

Stephen sat there, his fingers curled around the fresh glass of beer, and stared while you excavated a strand of pasta from beneath the arugula.

What the fuck was I watching? Where was the tiny tornado? Or the screech owl? Or even the hunter who'd happily mount my head on her wall? And who the hell was this?

You and Stephen ate in silence for several minutes. It wasn't until the server arrived at the table to top off your water that you and him shared a momentary glance at the woman's veiny hands. Those were legend-status veins.

Once alone again, Stephen said, "I could get a gray cannula in on the first shot and she wouldn't even feel it."

You gave a dry laugh. "When was the last time you started an IV?"

"Not recently," he admitted. "I usually practise on my residents at the start of their neuro rotation. Gets us off on a good, abusive foot and it helps me rank them by vascularity. Least being best, of course, since they'd never get pulled off the floor to donate blood. It comes back to haunt them when they're inevitably enrolled in a clinical trial."

"You're such an asshole," you said, but there was no heat behind it. You almost sounded amused.

"And what about you? When was the last time you started a line?"

You set your fork down and busied yourself with the napkin on your lap. "You have no idea what I do, do you?"

Stephen dropped a piece of crust to his plate. "Plastics. You make people look pretty after I put them back together."

You dabbed your lips—they were so pale, barely even pink—and set the napkin beside your mostly untouched pasta. You'd moved it around plenty but you hardly made a dent. And then you held up your phone to him as the timer counted down the final five seconds you'd set for the both of you.

After swiping away the alarm, you slipped the index card off the table. "I didn't get yours, so you're not getting mine."

You pushed away from the table and he had no choice but to watch you cross the restaurant. You didn't bother with backward glances, not when you were busy walking like the floor owed you money.

Steohen returned to his beer and pizza, and attempted to figure out what the ever-loving fuck happened here tonight. He was halfway through the last slice of pizza when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He assumed it was you texting him a thesis on his arrogance though he was wrong.

When he saw Essex was calling, he tucked the phone against his shoulder, saying, "What's up?"

The blaring roar of the emergency room came through the line before he said, "I'm early but I gotta deal with an issue. Consider this your fake crisis call so you can get the hell out of whatever you've gotten yourself into now."

"I don't get myself into things," Stephen said, dropping the last of the crust to his plate. "I actively avoid getting into things. I hate things."

"Yeah, yeah. I don't have time to unpack any of that tonight but maybe tomorrow if you buy me lunch."

"I'm not buying you lunch."

"That's cool. I'll get Druid to pick up the tab. He'll want to hear about this. He pays for updates on your misery." A siren wailed nearby and Essex groaned. "Really gotta go now. Be good." He hung up as the server came to gather the plates.

Stephen pointed at your pasta. "She said no arugula. What does this look like to you?"

The server frowned at the dish. "Why didn't she say anything?"

He motioned to the empty seat. "And you think I have any idea?"

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Tags: @winsteria @classicrebound @gwephen @patbrdac @goldencherriess @elizabethdarcy29 @strangeobsessed @strangelockd @lady-harvey @mirikusashes @rbymoon @k1mikoz @allie131313 @strangesthirdeye @nicoletk @sleutherclaw @dragonqueen89 @bloodyxsaint @3443652 @pinkthick @iamdedsthingz @casualimaginesfluffwagon @im-akira @faltinestrange @ilikedarkrai @alicia-c37 @phatm00d @xunquish-blog @keistange @omgstarks @jotaros-bara-tiddies @gaitwae @sherlux

[rapturezoo]

Tagged by @vergiluscious for this fun game, I’m sorry it took me so long to get this done but I enjoyed it!! It’s been a while since I’ve seen these.

Rules: Bold what is true for you and tag 15 people.

APPEARANCE

i'm over 5'5' // i wear glasses/contacts // i have blonde hair // i prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // i have one or more piercings // i have at least one tattoo // i have blue eyes // i have dyed or highlighted my hair // i have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // i sunburn easily // i have freckles // i paint my nails // i typically wear makeup // i don't often smile // i am pleased with how i look // i prefer nike to adidas // i wear baseball hats backwards

HOBBIES AND TALENTS

i play a sport // i can play an instrument // i am artistic // i know more than one language // i have won a trophy in some sort of competition // i can cook or bake without a recipe // i know how to swim // i enjoy writing // i can do origami // i prefer movies to tv shows // i can execute a perfect somersault // i enjoy singing // i could survive in the wild on my own // i have read a new book series this year // i enjoy spending time with friends // i travel during school or work breaks // i can do a handstand

RELATIONSHIP

i am in a relationship // i have been single for over a year // i have a crush // i have a best friend i have known for ten years // my parents are together // i have dated my best friend // i am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // i have a long distance relationship // i am an only child // i give advice to my friends // i have made an online friend // i met up with someone i have met online

AESTHETICS

i have heard the ocean in a conch shell // i have watched the sun rise // i enjoy rainy days // i have slept under the stars // i meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // i enjoy the smell of the beach // i know what snow tastes like // i listen to music to fall asleep // i enjoy thunderstorms // i enjoy cloud watching // i have attended a bonfire // i pay close attention to colours // i find mystery in the ocean // i enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favourite season

MISCELLANEOUS

i can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // i am the mom friend // i live by a certain quote // i like the smell of sharpies // i am involved in extracurricular activities // i enjoy mexican food // i can drive a stick-shift // i believe in true love // i make up scenarios to fall asleep // i sing in the shower // i wish i lived in a video game // i have a canopy above my bed // i am multiracial // i am a redhead // i own at least three dogs 🐶

I’m tagging with no pressure: @karnaca78 @peacewithans @hauteclare @newbordeaux @powerdrillgf @jasonbrights @konigskinder @infinitelines @lord-ofbears @essie-essex @ornstein @datacr1me @frenchy-lu @chesthighwater and anyone else who feels like giving this a try!

[noloveforned]

welcome to 2024! no love for ned is still here and still on wlur every friday night from 8pm until midnight! i was hoping to have a new theme set to go this week but we're going to stick with our fall 'food songs' for another week.

our last show of the year was the annual look back twenty years ago for our best of 2003 show (now streaming on mixcloud). if you enjoyed the show, you can also check out the previous nine retrospective shows spotlighting 2002, 2001, 2000, 1999, 1998, 1997, 1996, 1995 and 1993 (1994 will be produced later this year as a special a 30th anniversary show).

no love for ned on wlur – december 29th, 2023 from 8pm-midnight

artist // track // album // label the aislers set // languor in the balcony // how i learned to write backwards // slumberland shout out louds // the comeback // howl howl gaff gaff // bud fox matt suggs // calm down // amigo row // merge belle and sebastian // i'm a cuckoo // dear catastrophe waitress // rough trade the rosebuds // kicks in the schoolyard // make out // merge the lucksmiths // midweek midmorning // naturaliste // drive-in sprites // do it yourself // starling, spiders, tiger and sprites // march camera obscura // suspended from class // underachievers please try harder // elefant st. thomas // a long long time // hey harmony // racing junior bishop allen // little black ache // charm school // champagne school herman düne // why would that hurt? (if you never loved me) // mash concrete metal mushroom // shrimper bearsuit // itsuko got married // itsuko got married 7" // bearslut dressy bessy // baby six string // dressy bessy // kindercore the new pornographers // testament to youth in verse // electric version // matador all girl summer fun band // dear mr. and mrs. troublemaker // 2 // k david and the citizens // graycoated morning // until the sadness is gone // adrian saturday looks good to me // alcohol // all your summer songs // polyvinyl the essex green // the late great cassiopia // the long goodbye // merge beulah // landslide baby // yoko // velocette reclinerland // give up your film career (lenny's theme) // the ideal home music library // hush blanket music // hyper-ballad // read: interpreting bjork tribute // hush tobin sprout // doctor #8 // lost planets and phantom voices // mr. whiggs plastic mastery // i fell in love on the way to a funeral // sverige ep // 555 the thermals // no culture icons // more parts per million // sub pop rainer maria // mystery and misery // long knives drawn // polyvinyl joel plaskett emergency // extraordinary // truthfully truthfully // maple music sloan // false alarm // action pact // vik guided by voices // useless inventions // earthquake glue // matador deerhoof // dummy discards a heart // apple o' // kill rock stars lil' hospital // there could be girlfriend // i wanna be well // best friends the national splits // she's my baby and she's alright // fontana // mr. whiggs murder beach // eight great ways // first string teenage high- songs of tullycraft played by people who aren't tribute // bumblebear casiotone for the painfully alone // jeane, if you're ever in portland // twinkle echo // tomlab bobby birdman // i will come again // heart caves ep // states rights

erykah badu // back in the day // worldwide underground // motown the books // take time // the lemon of pink // tomlab nanang tatang // bunny hop hop // muki // tiger style so // a // so // thrill jockey piana // hide and seek // snow bird // happy broken social scene // anthems for a seventeen-year-old girl // you forgot it in people // arts and crafts califone // michigan girls // quicksand/cradlesnakes // thrill jockey the strugglers // the new room // the new room // tract magnolia electric co. // just be simple // the magnolia electric co. // secretly canadian crooked fingers // big darkness // red devil dawn // merge the trouble with sweeney // the break up // i know you destroy // burnt toast vinyl barzin // past all concerns // barzin // where are my azure ray // hold on love // hold on love // saddle creek seekonk // move // for barbara lee // kimchee sun kill moon // carry me ohio // ghosts of the great highway // jetset the american analog set // come home baby julie, come home // promise of love // tiger style the twilight singers // teenage wristband // blackberry belle // birdman spiritualized // she kissed me (it felt like a hit) // amazing grace // sanctuary the postal service // the district sleeps alone tonight // give up // sub pop her space holiday // my girlfriend's boyfriend // the young machines // mush styrofoam // a heart without a mind // i'm what's there to show that something's missing // morr music howard hello // my friend / the parasite // don't drink his blood // temporary residence pernice brothers // one foot in the grave // yours, mine and ours // ashmont the salteens // damn you // let go of your bad days // drive-in the unicorns // i was born (a unicorn) // who will cut our hair when we're gone? // alien8 the hidden cameras // ban marriage // the smell of our own // rough trade yo la tengo // today is the day // today is the day ep // matador

[masterwords]

I am a sucker for stories about characters getting together, mutual pining/ idiots to lovers are the best!

I would love a good story like that with Hotchgan unfortunately there aren't many out there like that.

So strange that Hotchgan get so little notes on AO3 and so much love on tumblr

Hey! I love those types of stories too! I'm going to fully admit right now that I'm not good at writing pining, especially with these two...but I tried. And it got long. The problem is that I'm not sure Hotch really allows himself to pine, and Morgan just kind of...goes for it. So I had to put them in a situation, and it gets kind of ugly but it ends with kisses so HANG IN THERE while you read okay? As far as getting together stories...I do have a number of them, I can definitely link them directly for you if you haven't read them. I've written hundreds of thousands of words about these idiots. (Ignore that if you have.)

Thank you for sending me this request! I'm not home a lot to write lately because I have a passel of kiddos and they're always in sports which means a LOT of traveling, but I had a lot of fun (and agonized a lot over it, not gonna lie) writing this and I just hope you like it!

.........................................................................................................................

Quid Pro Quo

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: divorce, anxiety, carsickness/gagging, Vincent Perotta, implied talk about abuse and other bad Hotch childhood things (brief)

Words: 5.6k

**

In an '82 Dodge Diplomat, they rolled down the deserted highway, dirt kissing the fresh white paint job. Police issue, from the back lot, Derek's favorite place to choose from. Of course they could have had something newer, nicer, preferably an SUV according to Hotch...but this reminded Derek of his dad. No longer silver streaked with bright blue, no longer screaming POLICE, it still had that smell. Some kind of sharp vinyl smell that permeated everything, new car smell but somehow dusty and old at the same time.

“All the cars on the lot,” Hotch muttered, playing around with the loose heat controls. He was freezing. The smell of burning dust was all that wanted to come out of the heating vents. “And you choose this one?”

“Give her a second,” was Derek's reply, his hands running along the smoothed out plastic and metal of the steering wheel. Cars now were so bulky, this one was sleek. “Specs said everything is in perfect condition. She's an old girl, probably needs some time. Tell me you wake up spry and ready to rock firs thing in the morning...”

Hotch grumbled under his breath about how rude that was, but he couldn't deny it. He wasn't getting any younger, and neither was this car. But, it wasn't a lie. Ten minutes later and that heater was about hot enough to melt through the dash, and Hotch had his hands greedily held as close to the vents as he could get. Long before heated seats, this was the best he could do.

“Did your dad drive one of these?” That had to be it, the reason Derek would choose this car out of everything else on the lot. Tons of them, kept in tip top condition, for the times when airline tickets weren't in the cards. They weren't going far enough, they were told, to warrant the cost of an airline ticket plus a rental car, and they certainly weren't going to use the jet for just the two of them. It was only about 330 miles, give or take, to the Ohio State Penitentiary and it was simply not worth the trouble of flying. Still, 300 miles sounded a lot nicer with a newer rig, heated seats, better sound insulation.

Especially when Aaron thought about who they were going to see. Vince Perotta had just been moved from Essex in New Jersey to Ohio State, his lawyers worked out a sweet deal for him. He bounced around every year or so, and as soon as he was settled they came calling on Hotch for a visit. Promising more names, more locations, anything to get him to agree to a face to face. Normally he went on his own, the team didn't even know he did it. Just take a few days, tell everyone it was personal time, and hit the road.

He'd been planning to do the same this time, too, until Haley had him served. Until he held those divorce papers in his hand and felt his entire world burn to ashes. She'd warned him, told him she was going to do it, she wasn't playing...but it didn't feel real until he held them. And now he'd lost whatever confidence he had in going to see a man who took pleasure in picking apart his carcass slow and methodical. That's all these visits really were. Perotta would give, but he would also take. It was the taking that required the extra day of personal time. But he didn't think that would cut it this time, so he asked Derek to come along.

Derek who had a million questions that he knew better than to ask. He just smiled and nodded, loving the car and the simplicity of it. There was something sweetly nostalgic about it, and Aaron could almost feel his sentimentality for this old beast of a car. It soothed his frayed nerves. “Yeah. I rode around in a car like this every day after school. Dad would pick me and my sisters up, take us out for a donut or a soda, tell us not to sass mom and do our homework, then drop us off at home. Same thing every day...” Until it wasn't. Until that ended, but he didn't want to go there. Not now.

“My father drove a Caddy,” Hotch offered automatically. He was staring off into the distance, nothing but highway and farmland as far as he could see. There was a big wall of storm clouds gathering on the horizon, thick and gray and ominous. “A big 1968 Cadillac Fleetwood...champagne with these custom white leather seats that scorched your legs in the summertime and never warmed up in winter.”

“You learn to drive in that beast?”

Hotch laughed a joyless laugh. “Are you kidding? My father wouldn't let any of us behind the wheel. He bought my mother this station wagon that was half a block long and almost as wide. Wood paneling on the sides. I learned to drive in that. Took out a few mailboxes before I got a handle on how big it was.”

“What happened to the Caddy when he passed?” Derek asked, hoping it wasn't too forward of him. Aaron made a little huffing noise and shook his head.

“He left it to Sean. You can imagine it didn't last long. He sold it for rent money, so he claims. I have my doubts.”

Derek did too. He knew Sean well enough to know that he wasn't exactly the most trustworthy person. Not exactly responsible. That he and Hotch shared both parents and a genetic pool never ceased to amaze him. Still, he liked Sean. A night out on the town was always more fun when he helped make the plans.

“Hey, that bag on the backseat, can you grab it? I brought a little surprise...”

The minute Hotch lifted it up, he knew what it was. The sound of plastic clacking together, the jagged angles bulging against the thin nylon. He set it on his lap and waited for Derek to invite him to look inside, and what he saw didn't exactly surprise him. “Pick one.”

“Derek, we don't need music...”

“Bullshit. Pick one. They're all classics.”

It was a pile of mixtapes. White covers with meticulously labeled track lists in various colored ball point pen. Definitely Derek's handwriting. “You made all of these?”

“Those go all the way back to high school, man. Seriously, they're all gold.” Now Hotch understood why Derek chose this car. It was more than just nostalgia. He could control the entire musical experience. And, he thought a little suddenly (not even sure where it came from) that Derek might be trying to cheer him up. Or take the edge off of what was going on in his life. The gesture was appreciated.

Hotch sifted through the tapes with thinly veiled fascination. He had a few tapes still in a shoe box somewhere, probably in the storage unit. Nothing this elaborate, and he wondered as he poked through the pile whether Derek had every cassette he'd ever owned. Probably. They would be neatly cataloged, on display, too. A part of him wanted to see it.

The rest of the trip, Derek couldn't be contained. He sang loud like he was in the shower, dancing with his shoulders in his seat, patting and drumming against the steering wheel. There was something almost contagious about it. Hotch even found himself humming along more than once to songs he knew...some Whitney Houson, some Marvin Gaye, even Dwight Yoakam and Elton John. He really did have a little of everything, and he wasn't lying when he said it was all good. Hotch may not have enjoyed the Nas as much as he did the smooth, soft sounds of Lionel Richie, but he found that he couldn't help bopping along with the beat anyway.

By the time they were nearing their motel, Hotch was eagerly reading through the track-listings trying to find a suitable next tape. He almost wanted to just continue to drive...something about getting to know Derek through this felt intimate and like a gift. Better than any amount of talking.

They ordered a pizza and settled into their motel room easily. Two beds, a grainy old television and a coffee machine. Not exactly high-end accommodations, but they were happy to be out of the car and kicked back on lumpy old mattresses watching half an action movie until they passed out. The daunting nature of the following day had Hotch on edge as much as he tried to hide it, and Derek did his best not to bring it up. He didn't need to ask to understand that there was something specific about Vincent Perotta that got deeply under Hotch's skin.

It did his, too. Watching the man garrote his friend, being unable to take the shot, years later it still made him angry. The bruises beneath Hotch's buttoned tight collar were purple black and his voice had been hoarse for nearly a week after. As it slowly went back to normal and the bruises faded to sickly yellow, everyone else seemed to forget but Derek couldn't. He stared at it every time they were in a room together, considering it a failure on his part.

If given the chance to go back, he didn't really think Perotta being alive was terribly important to the investigation or saving Jimmy, they could have figured it out on their own...he'd put that bullet between Perotta's eyes without thinking twice.

Police station was the first stop in the morning for a short seminar, as Jason used to call them. Rossi just told them that while they were on the road, they may as well stop by and poke their heads in. Especially since they now held a prolific serial killer in their jurisdiction and he was a doozy. Hotch didn't mind the short distraction. They had some basic information to present but it was more of a conversation that they wanted to center around Vincent Perotta. A Q&A session with cops who weren't usually terribly receptive to what they did. Derek always made it easier, having been a cop himself. It was like an instant kinship. He would walk in and they could just tell by the way he walked, the way he carried himself. He was one of them, and Hotch was an outsider. He tried too hard to combat that, be friendly instead of putting up his usual shield of armor...usually it worked after a while. They either respected him or took pity on him, either way they usually warmed up but not today. Today it was one knock down after another until he found himself retreating to the silent shadows beside the power point on screen and let Derek take lead on their session. It would be over soon. He wasn't there to rile them up, and Derek had it under control.

Afterward, the Sheriff apologized to Hotch and he figured that was about the best he could have hoped for...but Derek, he had them on board with what he was saying.

“You could have done that on your own,” Aaron said, lugging the bag of equipment over his shoulder. “I was only in the way today.”

Derek regarded him sadly and shrugged. “You're just off your game. It's understandable, man. But I was talking to one of the guys afterward, while you were with the Sheriff. Guess they've been burned a few times lately by Feds jumping into their business...it's not you. Don't take it personally.”

“They called me a pencil pusher,” Hotch muttered, throwing the bag into the backseat with a huff. Derek laughed.

“Well shit, they're calling you worse now that you're not in the building.”

Hotch stopped and held his hand up over his eyes to shield them from the sun while he stared at Derek more than a little incredulously. “Like what?”

“Oh you know...cop things...” Derek's voice was sly, mischievous, and his smile said he wasn't about to tell Hotch exactly what he knew. “Things my mama would tan my hide over if I repeated them. You're better off not knowing.”

“That isn't true. My imagination can fill in the blanks. Just tell me.”

“Not a chance, Hotchner. Your mind isn't nearly filthy enough to come up with half the shit they'll say just at the coffee maker, let alone at the bar after their shifts are over...pick a tape so we can drive to the prison and get this over with.”

The prison was Hotch's place. Being a cop didn't help you there, but being a former prosecutor helped. He knew the walk, the sign in, the way to interact with the guards. Derek fell in line, followed Hotch's lead, knowing that his expertise stopped at booking these guys into the county jail, once that transport bus came he was out of their lives. And he was fine with that. These custodial interviews made him nervous...prisons weren't kind to ex-cops, for starters. Hotch could fool everyone into thinking he was just a lawyer, just a pencil pusher, but Derek, he gave off the vibes of I put you here you asshole. These guys fed on it. He'd done a few custodials on his own and preferred to have someone with him if at all possible, though he'd never say it aloud. He could never admit that.

He had his suspicions that Hotch knew, though, because he never sent Derek alone. Not once. Gideon had, Rossi had, but Hotch always went with him or gave him a partner.

“You don't have to do anything in here, just...” Hotch paused, searching for a way to make this as painless as possible. “I couldn't do this one alone. Whatever you hear in there doesn't leave this prison.” Derek didn't have a chance to reply before the guard let them into the little room set up for them. Derek just nodded his understanding, as nonchalant as he could, even though he felt the rock settle in in the pit of his stomach. He was more than a little uneasy, this wasn't going to be pretty. If it had Hotch nervous...hell he didn't think he'd ever seen Hotch nervous.

Perotta was already seated at the small metal table. He looked like a giant, his meaty fists chained to a metal hoop in the center of the table. Hotch eyed the chains and considered his options. He swallowed and there was an audible click in his throat as he did so.

“Agent Hotchner,” Perotta said in his cool, slow voice. “You brought us a guest.”

“Yes,” Hotch replied quickly. He tried to come up with a lie, a reason, something to give Perotta but he was sure by now that the man could smell the lie he was cooking up. “I thought it best I didn't come alone today.”

“Oh? You sound different, Aaron. Have you been sleeping?”

Hotch sighed and led Derek around to the other side of the room, cautiously giving Perotta a wide berth. He wouldn't sit too close, either. That chain looked tight but Perotta was strong. Involuntarily he gulped and felt that phantom barbed wire feeling. “Does that count as your first question, Vincent?”

Perotta smiled his feline smile, bearing his teeth. “Sure. I'd love to know what's keeping you up at night these days.” Almost instinctively, Perotta's gaze drifted from Hotch's face to his hands as he pulled out his file and pen, and then his smile widened. “Where's your wedding ring?”

“That's two questions, Vincent. Do you expect me to answer both of them? You're going to have me out of her faster than usual at this rate.”

Perotta glanced at Derek briefly, and then back at Hotch. Derek almost thought he could see Perotta's gears turning and he didn't like what he was seeing. Still, he waited. The silence ate away at their hour and he would be glad to let it.

“I knew she'd leave you. Was it a shock to you?”

Hotch remained silent, no longer wanting to play Perotta's little game of cat and mouse. “I'd like you to answer that one question. I know you're not sleeping because she left, that no longer interests me. I'd like to know if you were surprised that she left you.”

Hotch held Perotta's intense gaze. “I suppose. When she took our son and left, I thought she might still come back. I shouldn't have been surprised when she had me served, she gave me ample warning, but I was anyway.”

Derek couldn't believe the honesty that Hotch was affording this man chained to the table. He wondered if he could have gotten such brutal honesty out of Hotch if he'd asked. Maybe he would, he hadn't ever really tried...he rarely tried to get Hotch to talk because he knew it made the other man uncomfortable.

It was a peculiar back and forth. Perotta had a slew of questions prepared, and to Derek's constant amazement, Hotch answered him honestly each time. He worried his thumb over the inside of his ring finger, right where that wedding ring no longer sat, and stared hard at Perotta. Hotch answered questions about his childhood, about his father, about things Derek didn't know. It was almost like walking into a movie that was already half over, a continuation of previous conversations. Perotta asked, but he never had a response and his face stayed stony and unreadable. He took careful mental notes, cataloging every syllable. And yet he could tell Hotch was withholding as much as he thought he could get away with. These stories were honest, but threadbare. Perotta wouldn't know his tells the way Derek did. Maybe he could tell an outright lie, but he wouldn't see through the minor infractions. Careful guarding of information that was too deeply personal, too well buried, to speak into the world.

“You've got two questions left,” Hotch said, clearing his throat. It wasn't any worse saying those things in front of Derek than he thought it would be, it was only as bad as he imagined. That was a relief. If he had to bare his soul in front of anyone, he couldn't ask for anyone better.

“I'd like to ask Agent Morgan a question,” Perotta said after a long, pointed silence. He'd been weighing his odds, studying the two men. “May I? I'll forfeit my final question.”

“That's up to Agent Morgan,” Hotch answered quietly, before turning to Derek. “You don't have to say yes.”

Derek squared his shoulders and stepped forward from where he'd been standing a few feet behind Hotch, just a casual observer. “You can ask, but I'm not promising I'll answer.”

“No,” Perotta oozed, smiling. Realizing he once again had the upper hand after only a momentary lapse. “That isn't the deal. But I'll work with you. I ask you the question, and if you're not comfortable answering, I get to ask Aaron two more anyway.”

Derek hated the sound of that. If he thought the question he was asked was too personal, too much, the focus would shift back to Hotch who had already answered such deeply personal questions that Derek felt sick on his behalf. Hotch didn't look too bad off, all things considered. He'd looked worse before they came in. It had obviously been eating at him, the anticipation of this conversation. The fact that Hotch hadn't told him about any of this, hadn't shared with him what was about to happen, was gnawing at him.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

Perotta grinned. There was nothing endearing or sweet in his smile, it was as near as Derek thought he'd ever seen to real evil. “Did you know you were in love with Aaron before you aimed your gun at my head, or was it my garrote around his neck that did it?”

Derek cleared his throat nervously and balled up his fists to hide the tremor. “That sounds like two questions...” His voice was frail and he found that he couldn't look at Hotch. Bright spots clouded his vision. Perotta shrugged lackadaisically.

“I suppose it is. You can't blame me for my interest?”

“You don't have to answer that.” Hotch's voice sounded far away to Derek's ears and he sat down on the bench beside his friend. Sat hard, before he passed out. He wasn't sure why he was reacting this way, really. It wasn't like he'd never been put on the spot before, he did this shit for a living. And it also wasn't like he hadn't ever confessed love to someone who didn't want to hear it...you don't get to his age without a few broken hearts. But something about this felt so much bigger. So much worse.

He had more to lose this time.

“Come on, Agent Morgan. I've got a time limit. If you don't answer soon, your friend here might not get the information he's after. We'll have to wait until next time.”

“I,” Derek started, swallowing hard. “Before. But I don't think I understood it until that moment.”

Hotch stared hard at Perotta, refused to let himself be distracted by the sudden sharp pain in his chest, the dizzy feeling that washed over him. He studied Perotta's reaction, the pleasure at making both of them uncomfortable, at what he figured would probably destroy their working relationship after it made for an awful drive home. He looked pleased.

“The paper,” Hotch said with some finality, glancing only briefly at the clock. “Time's up.”

The little sheet of paper was released from Perotta's grip, crumpled and damp from his sweaty palm but it was legible. Same as always. A name and a location.

It took Derek almost a full minute to gather himself, to stand up and follow Hotch out of the room once Perotta had been removed. They didn't speak all the way down the corridor, and they didn't say a word as they got their weapons back and re-entered the free world.

Derek sped up as they walked to the car. He unlocked Hotch's door first, old school locks being what they were, he was still a gentleman even if he was more than a little off his game. Old habits die hard. Once inside the car he rifled through the tapes, selected one, and turned it up a little too loud. Loud enough that he couldn't hear himself think. And he definitely couldn't hear anything Hotch might want to say.

He knew what was coming. Useless platitudes. He'd assure Derek it didn't mean anything, he'd forget all about it, even offer him an out to say he'd lied and said what Perotta wanted to hear. And the most frustrating part of all of it was that he would do it. He'd forget it, if Derek wanted him to.

“Derek,” Hotch said as Derek floored the gas a little too hard and made his stomach do a somersault up into his chest. “Derek.”

He turned the music up and drove a little faster. Hotch sighed and looked out the window, watched the prison disappear in the rearview mirror. The softened, damp piece of paper was still in his hand...his unpleasant day was only beginning. He still had to find this person's family, get the police out to the location, dig up remains. His shit was getting deeper and that pain in his chest was quickly turning into a sick feeling in his stomach.

Quickly, without giving it too much thought, he flicked the volume button until it was all the way down and turned toward Derek. His knee knocked into the console and he winced at the jolt of pain. “Derek.”

“Stop please. Just don't.” He was getting angry now. Angry at what? Perotta? Or maybe Hotch for bringing him along in the first place? Or himself for answering so brutally honest when he had no reason to. Hotch gave him an out. But he'd been so angry about being blindsided by the content of the conversation and far too guilty about how much Hotch gave up to lie, or worse, to refuse to answer. Lord only knew what other violations Perotta had in store for Hotch. As it was, he felt like he'd been watching an assault in graphic detail.

“Was it true?” Hotch's voice sounded small and fragile, the question leaving him breathless. Derek's foot eased up on the gas a little at the sound of it. He frowned.

“What? What I told him? Yeah, I guess it was...didn't think lying was an option after everything you gave him...”

“What I gave him was part of the deal I made. You didn't owe him anything. I'm sorry I put you in that position.”

One painfully silent moment stretched into the next and finally, on an empty stretch of highway between the prison and their motel, Derek veered off to the side of the road in a cloud of dust and squealing brakes.

“You're sorry? Man...” Derek's anger was tangible and he knew, without a doubt, the person he was angriest with was himself. “Don't you dare do that.”

Hotch pursed his lips and waited. Derek didn't look like he was done talking. He was just busy processing.

“He thinks you guys have a lot in common. That's fucked up, you know that? Looks at you like you guys are the same...”

“I suppose in some ways ways...”

“No. No. You're not. Maybe you guys both had shitty fuckin' dads but that doesn't make you the same. You gotta be smart enough to see that.”

Silence. All the color had gone from Hotch's cheeks. “It isn't that simple, Derek.”

“No, of course not...it never is...”

Another long silence. God the silence was painful. It was thick and settled in his chest. Finally, when Hotch couldn't take it a moment more, and it looked like Derek was going to start the car again, he reached over and placed his hand over Derek's before he could turn the key in the ignition.

“I asked if what you said was true because...” he paused, gathering what little courage he could still muster after the beating his soul just took in that prison. He wasn't sure he could come back from this if it went south, not after everything else. The things Derek knew about him now...he was too raw to even meet his stare. He'd never shied away from eye contact with Derek before.

Hell, in that case, he might already be dead in the water. “What Hotch?”

He desperately needed Derek to soften a little, and under the gentle touch of his hand he almost seemed to. Almost. He didn't make things easy. “Because what dammit?”

When Hotch took too long to respond, Derek groaned and turned the key in the ignition, shaking Hotch's hand away with the motion. Frustrated, Derek let out a sigh and floored the gas before turning the radio back on and back up. Way up. There was a faint sting of tears in Hotch's eyes. Tears of frustration, at Derek for being so impulsive, for being so open, at himself for being unable to do one fucking thing he wanted to do. This whole trip had turned out to be just as disastrous as he'd anticipated. His fail-safe had blown up in his face. He'd tried to avoid the self-destruction of going on his own but managed to make it worse.

There was nothing he could say now. He knew Derek well enough not to touch that volume dial again or they'd be on the fast track to an actual argument. Instead, he sat silent, each of them stewing in the raw emotions Vincent Perotta had scraped up. The man had a knack.

Derek blew past the turn off to their motel, and Hotch watched it fade into the distance curiously. Part of him thought about speaking up, but his features were set and he looked in absolutely no mood to hear anything come out of Hotch's mouth. So, he kept himself quiet. Clear on they drove as the afternoon turned on them, those storm clouds finally making good on their threats. They'd been hovering all day but the air was still, quiet, calm. Now it crackled with electricity, he could feel it in his teeth.

Derek switched the tapes silently, loud plastic clacking together as he worked one handed. Hotch thought this might be the time, the brief silence between tapes.

“Derek, pull over,” he said quietly, his stomach twisting. He'd done a fairly good job at holding it off. His carsickness was usually enough to keep him in the driver's seat, but he didn't often have trouble if Derek drove...unless he was driving like a wild man through a violent sheet of rain and thunder. This sudden out of control feeling of barreling toward endless black chaos. “Please pull over.” His voice had taken on a breathy quality that Derek didn't like. He knew it well enough from years of sitting in the backseat of a car piloted by Gideon down back roads and highways. Before the jet was in their employ whenever they wanted it.

He swerved onto the shoulder of the road and by the time the car was in park Hotch was spilling out the side onto his hands and knees, gagging and heaving. Nothing was coming up, there was nothing to come up, but man did it hurt. He crawled further away from the car, as if the movement would help. At least it would get him away from the pungent smell of exhaust. Thunder rumbled through the air around them, followed shortly by lightning that lit up the sky as he skidded down the embankment and pushed his way into the wall of corn stalks to get some shelter from the rain. Derek stayed in the car, and he was grateful for that. His stomach cramped painfully but thanked his lucky stars he never actually got sick.

Some part of him knew he wasn't just car sick. It wasn't Derek's driving, it was the time with Perotta, it was the smell of his breath so close, it was that phantom pain in his windpipe every time he looked at the man's hands. It was every single thing he said about his father, about trips to the emergency room and social workers and his mother. It was memories dragged up from murky depths that tasted like bile and blood. He gagged and whimpered until it finally settled and he just sat there, crouching inside the strange shelter of tall cornstalks and drenched spiderwebs that looked like silk and diamonds when the lightning lit up the sky.

“Hotch!” Derek's voice floated strangely through the electric air and he pressed his palms against his thighs to try and stand up. His knees shook a little and he nearly fell, but caught himself quickly against one thick stalk.

“I'm here,” he answered, staggering out of the field. Derek was standing just outside of his door, staring incredulously into the night while Hotch lurched through the muck and up the small embankment to the road. “I'm sorry.” He muttered it while he shucked his soaking wet jacket from his arms and tossed it into the backseat and kicked the muck off of his shoes against the tires.

“You good?” Derek asked, and Hotch could tell that he'd softened a little. The edge was gone from his voice, and his features didn't look quiet so stern. “Need another minute?”

“No, I'm okay.” He paused, meeting Derek's eyes over the roof of the car briefly. “Derek...what you said to Perotta, is it still true?” Somewhere in that muddy corn field he'd found whatever sliver of courage still existed in him and lit it on fire. It would burn fast and hot, it wouldn't last long. He shivered and pushed his wet hair back from his forehead, staring intently at the man before him.

“What does it matter?” Derek asked, reaching for the door, to let Hotch in. He wanted to get out of the rain, but Hotch wouldn't move. "Hotch, get in..."

“Just answer me. It matters.”

“I don't know. Yeah, I guess it's still true. It's okay, you can tell me it's fine and you don't care and...”

He didn't get a chance to finish before Hotch was grabbing the sides of his face, palms splayed drenched and a little muddy against his cheeks, and leaning forward for a kiss. There was nothing gentle about the way he pulled Derek toward him, the way he dove into that kiss hungry and more than a little desperate. Behind them thunder rumbled through the field and moments later the sky lit up in a ferocious web of blinding light. Derek's arms wrapped tight around Hotch's waist, pulling him close, chest to chest, hip to hip and he leaned them up against the car door. His feet slipped in the growing puddle beneath them, but somehow the rain seemed inconsequential. They lost track of the entire storm, the fury of mother nature faded into the background.

“Let's finish this at the hotel,” Derek whispered, his teeth chattering. He really hoped the heater warmed up a little faster this time. Hotch smiled dreamy and tired.

“We'd be there right now if you hadn't missed the turn.”

Derek glared at him, nose to nose, and squeezed his waist a little harder. “Don't push your luck. I'll leave you here.”

[vivianrose-my-road-to-3500cc]

I'm not sure if you know, but the woman in the picture that you posted in this link, she goes by Essex bunny, and not only is she over 7k on her expanders, but her butt implants are expanders also

https://vivianrose-my-road-to-3500cc.tumblr.com/post/692101401591054336/realwomengetplasticsurgery-giant-fake-plastic

I am aware of her. Actually she is one of my role models and inspired me to want ass expanders ass well. Absolutely adore her look!

[dankusner]

Little Simz meets Erykah Badu

t-shirt VANS and shoes VANS ROWLEY XLT, jacket PRADA, shorts SUPREME, sunglasses JUDITH LEIBER, belt FOUND AND VISION and socks stylist’s own“I’m a very insular person. I’ve never been the loudest in the room”

On a cool day in May, Little Simz dials in from a flat in London.

Bare-faced, with a black T‑shirt on and her long dreadlocks tucked under a New Era cap, she’s grinning from ear to ear.

The 30-year-old – born Simbiatu ​“Simbi” Abisola Abiola Ajikawo and raised in a Yoruba household in North London – is now five albums, and multiple accolades, deep into her career.

Beloved for her soul-baring bars about romantic love, family and mental health struggles – nothing is off limits – Simz has more than proven herself to be one of UK music’s biggest stars.

But even new-gen superstars are keen to pay it back.

The reason for Simz’s smile is mirrored on her screen, a face that’s also wide with delight.

Neo-soul legend Erykah Badu is on the call from her home in Dallas, eager to chat with the musician.

With an ear for new talent (Erykah has publicly co-signed Summer Walker and Ari Lennox) and a catalogue that spans almost three decades, it makes sense that, after hearing Simz last year, the 53-year-old Texan instantly fell in love with the Brit.

“I first heard Simz through my longtime girlfriend Mimi Fresh, who lives in London,” says Erykah, who is dressed in a grey T‑shirt and has a smattering of tattoos on her arms, with a red headband keeping her signature extra-small braids away from her face. ​

“She played Gorilla [from her 2022 album No Thank You].

I was immediately caught off guard – it was refreshing.

I was like: ​“What is going on?”

Sometime later I saw the video and I thought: ​“That’s an MC right there.” Not only MCing but has mastered it, you know?”

How does that make Simz – raised on a musical diet of Erykah – feel?

​“How would it make you feel?” she exclaims, laughing into the camera.

This is somebody that I’ve known my whole life, from, like, my sisters introducing me to your music. And then later come to find out we’re both Pisces, it just [made] feel even more connected to you.”

Little Simz

ERYKAH: When’s your birthday?

SIMZ: 23rd of February.

E: I’m [on the] 26th. I guess that’s the one thing I identify with if that theory [of astrology] is true. There’s something very influential about your presence: you capture the attention of people. Maybe it was some Pisces thing.

S: Do you think that is a Pisces thing?

E: Yeah, I do. I’ve noticed that [being] born in a certain season gives you a certain type of personality and influence. Being a Pisces and meeting other Pisces, I definitely generally feel connected to how you preserve your energy and share [it]. That’s why I asked, I guess. I forgot we were both Pisces! Where did you grow up, Simz?

S: North London, a place called Essex Road, with my mother, two older sisters and my older brother – I’m the youngest of four. I’m of Nigerian heritage so my house growing up was very Nigerian: obviously the food my mum cooked, [and] she spoke to us in Yoruba. But then as soon as you leave my front door it’s like: London… Have you ever been to Nigeria?

E: I’ve been to Lagos a few times. The first time I went to visit Femi Kuti at [art and music venue] New Afrika Shrine. The next time I went on my own – I wanted to go to visit the shrine of Osun in Osogbo State. I arranged a car, I didn’t have any security or anything like that. I wasn’t even thinking in that kind of way. [I] went to the river and picked some things up out of the water, like cups and plastic straws. I was just beginning my studies of Yoruba at that time. It had to be about 20 years ago.

S: No way!

E: Yes. I got a couple of readings. [Writer and poet] Baba Ifayemi [Elebui- bon] was one of the priests who gave me a reading in Osogbo, and then another unknown priest as well. Interesting culture and readings, but I felt very familiar with it. It didn’t seem foreign to me. It just seemed like a missing piece in my life, since my family is also originally from West Africa.

S: Do you know where?

E: Cameroon. That’s what I heard. [We’re] Bamiléké, which means grass field people. So you grew up in a Nigerian world in London?

S: Very much so, everything was Nigerian. But I’ve always been a performing arts kid. I don’t think I was much [of an] academic type. I did English but anything from performing arts to music, I was very drawn to. I guess my family was very supportive in how they championed me and my creativity. They fuelled it from a very early age. I started when I was nine and it was very much if [I] wanted to do that, I could do that. Which is rare, because in Nigerian families it’s very typical for your mum or your parents to be like: ​“I want you to be a doctor or a lawyer.” Or for the guys, it’s going into engineering. [But] that was never my mum’s vibe. It was like: ​“Whatever you feel [like doing],I’m backing it, I’m supporting it.” But she did want me to have an education and have my studies intact.

THE FACE: How was the conversation when you decided to drop out of university to pursue music, Simz?

S: It wasn’t the easiest. I just had to show her [that] if I’m dropping out, I’m not gonna be a bum or do nothing in my life, you know? I’m dropping out because I really wanna have a crack at this. [For my mum it was] trusting in how you raise this person [and believing] it’s gonna work out, it’s gonna be fine. And now we’re kinda here…

E: You don’t have to say drop out, though. You can say – this is real cute, I learned this over the years – ​“I was disenchanted with my studies and I decided to go in a different direction.” You [mentioned] your mom. Did you live with your pops, too?

S: Yeah, until I was 11. [Then] him and my mum split. Also, my mum had me [when] she was 41 or something. [It was a] ​“didn’t expect me to pop out” type of situation. The doctors gave her all the reasons to not have me: ​“She’s gonna have Down’s Syndrome, you’re over 40…” All this stuff. And she ended up having me.

My siblings probably had more of a relationship with my dad than I did. In [a] way I grew up like an only child because the gap is so wide between me and [them]. I’ve not really had a relationship with my dad. Over the years [it became] the typical story of you start doing well in life and then it’s like: ​“Oh, hello…”

E: Letters from jail and shit.

S: Yeah.

E: I know the drill.

S: But I’ve chosen to protect myself and that’s it with that.

E: Uh-huh, that’s really smart. And when you feel fully ready to re-examine that relationship, I’m sure you will – because there may come a time for that. There may be questions that you have.

S: 100 per cent.

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E: Take your time. I’m the oldest. It’s the opposite of you. I have a sister who’s three years younger and a brother who’s 12 years younger, like you. [He was] the new baby, the whole new chapter of my mum’s life. As the oldest, it was me and my sister and then when he came I was like a semi-mama a little bit. Do you have a sibling that’s like the semi-mama?

S: Yup! It’s my oldest sister. Have you always been quite maternal?

E: Definitely. I don’t know how that happened. I did not see my mother being really maternal in that way. My mom was laidback and cool. My grandmothers were more maternal.

They say the first born always kind of has that gene: the leader. I’ve been there the whole time for my youngest sibling. It was a very natural thing for me to dote over him, care for him, make sure to keep him in the right.

S: Did it make for a complex relationship? With my sisters, especially in my teenage years, I started to take on this very ​“you’re not my mum” rebellious type of thing.

E: Yup, that happened. Do you think you were doing that because [your siblings] couldn’t relate to you, or is it because you needed to shake things up?

S: I was more like: ​“You was once my age, though? You never smoke a joint?” I [didn’t] understand where this holier than thou energy I was getting [came from]. I understand a lot of it now I’m older. I know a lot of it was [them being] very protective. I have a very protective family and I’m the baby, the cub, so it’s even more so – just a pack of lions [that were] super protective of me.

E: Who is the closest sibling?

S: I have seasons, but me and my brother have always had a really special bond. He is a water sign, Cancer. Our worlds very much align.

E: That’s perfect. How much older is he?

S: He’s actually gonna be 50 – he’s the first born. The gap is super wide.

E: That’s me and you.

S: Yeah, literally.

shirt PROCELL, t-shirt JAWARA ALLEYNE, shorts SUPREME, shoes VANS PREMIUM AUTHENTIC 44, bracelet LAURA LOMBARDI and necklaces FOUND AND VISION

E: You can see where I’ve been and I can see where you’re going. I could see where that’s relatable. Cuz I don’t quite feel like you’re 30 and I’m 50. I don’t quite feel like a mom [talking] with a 30-year-old – even though my son will be 27 this year. I still feel like an older sister to a 30-year-old.

S: Where was you at when you was 30?

E: I was just starting my record career. I got signed [at] about 25 and my first album [Baduizm] dropped at 26. I was coming out with my second album in 2000 when I was [almost] 30, Mama’s Gun. I was trying to figure out if I was right or wrong at that time because you just don’t know, you know? Things happen for you, to you and around you at 30. Am I grown or am I a child?

At that point you’re releasing a lot of different hormones, depending on your gender, and you are beginning to own your life: ​“Oh, I’m responsible for this. Oh, I made that.” You’re taking responsibility for things. That’s [also] when the guilt starts to kick in. At 40 is when you release the guilt. But it’s a whole life, you’ll see. [At 30] are you noticing your frustration or [feeling like you’re] being pulled in two different directions: spiritually, mentally?

S: Yeah, it’s [been] the most transitional – but blatantly transitional. I can feel everything about me is shifting and it’s somewhat uncomfortable. But I understand I’ve also been called to do something, you know? It’s never a ​“why me?” thing. But it feels like a lot and I don’t have all the answers for things – sometimes I feel like people expect me to. I’m still transitioning. But I do also feel like a new burst of something, I feel more energised. I’m more accepting of challenges. [Especially] now that I know life will constantly be presenting them. In my twenties it was like, what? A [negative] hit from here and a hit from here, but now I understand: oh, it’s life – that constantly happens.

E: [How] has your family, values, religion, customs [helped you] in those situations? And what are those traditions?

S: My mum is a very Muslim woman, very religious. I grew up in that way, so she obviously had intentions for me to really become that. But over the years she’s embraced my feelings towards religion and spirituality. I’m a very insular person. I’ve never been the loudest in the room. I’ve never been extroverted. I find comfort in writing, [and that] stemmed from early. Even when I used to ask my mum [if I could] stay at someone’s house, I used to write it in the form of a letter. It’s just always been easier for me to write things down.

E: Are there any particular practices your mum taught you all that you find yourself leaning on, or reaching back out to?

S: Prayer, for sure. And listening to God. I guess the other term for that would be meditation. When you pray it’s your opportunity to speak to God and when you meditate you listen. Speaking and listening to God, it was installed from early. Even until this day, my mum is very much aware that I have my own personal relationship with God. I guess she still really wants me and God to be the best of friends. It’s maybe because her experiences in life have been tough and her faith and her relationship with God are really what’s carried her through. She understands the importance of that relationship and wants that for me.

E: Do you noticeably feel calmer and more at peace when you’re surrounded by your family [or] friends at events and things?

S: Yeah. Especially because I’m a quiet person and sometimes I fear that’s read as antisocial or stand-offish, even though that is not my vibe at all. If there’s nothing to talk about [then] I’m not gonna talk. But because my family and friends know this so much about me, I just relax with it. But then, because I know them well, I do come out of my shell and it’s funny… What’s something that binds your family? Is it food? Music?

E: It’s comedy – we grew up in a house [watching and listening to] Richard Pryor. It’s our whole family’s coping mechanism. We gonna joke about the shit that ain’t supposed to be funny constantly. [Say] it’s an earthquake outside, we joking! ​“Get down!” It’s how we relate, it’s how we bond. My family’s sense of humour is very morbid and silly. My grandmother Thelma was the matriarch of the house. She passed away at 93 [two] or three years ago. Now my mother, Queenie, is the matriarch, then I’m next. So I’m like: ​“Oh, my God…” Usually we move into the family house, [which] is the house we still have.

S: Is that traditional in your family?

E: Yes. This is the third generation. I would be the fourth. [First] it was my great-grandmother, Odessa…Then I’m the oldest girl so it’ll be me, or my sister, three years younger [than me], to take over that place. That’s a very important space and place. I’m 50 so I think about that now. Are you interested in having a family of your own? Because not everyone is.

S: Definitely. I think that’s wicked. Kids are the greatest blessing, I’d love to be able to give a child my love and not necessarily my thoughts. Teach them to be free thinkers and individuals and stand on their own, but give them unconditional love and care. The fact that you’re blessed enough to do that, I think you should. And hopefully that is in my path at the right time, hopefully with the right person if that’s also my path.

But 100 per cent, especially [since] I’ve got nieces and nephews. I have the best relationship with them. I’m very present in their lives and even seeing how they grow up together, I love the idea of having a community within a family. There’s a younger lot and then there’s me and my cousins that all grew up together. Now we’re in our thirties, there are conversations that are different. Then there’s my mum and my aunties. I like that within the family. But [ultimately] we’re all one. Did you know how many [children] you wanted to have?

E: I wanted to have seven. I have three biological children, two nieces and two nephews, so it gives me seven. But I always wanted to have seven and I named my first son Seven so I could count down backwards. But it didn’t quite work out like that! I had other kids in between those kids, which were [my albums] Baduizm, Mama’s Gun, New Amerykah Part One [2008] and Two [2010]. I have to ask you a funny question… When you started to do well in your career, did you notice that the family started to act shifty when it comes to your money and your shit?

S: I try not to decipher what that is. Also, I’ve had a weird relationship with money myself. It’s like this fear of: never wanna go broke, never wanna go broke, never wanna go broke. So: never wanna spend, never wanna spend, never wanna spend. But [I’m] happy obviously – if anyone needs whatever, I’m here. [But] I think I’ve had to learn: ​“No.”

E: You had to learn ​“no”. I was thinking the other day: when I became an entertainer – or, got a record deal and had a certain amount of success – nobody in my family was thinking about being famous or thinking about money. We didn’t have the internet. We didn’t have cellphones. I had one of the first cellphones in my family besides one of my mama’s boyfriends in the ​’80s – he had that big phone that you can put in the car with you and carry around in the suitcase. But that’s a whole other life [and] my family was not thinking about that. Then all of a sudden y’all thinking about it. Y’all got your mind on money and fame now!

THE FACE: How did that change you?

E: The only thing that changed really about me was how other people treated me, which made me have to behave a certain way. Which is hilarious when it comes to family. Because it’s so obvious to me which family members feel a little envious. Which ones feel a little, you know, needy.

It got to the point where I had to create a message from my answering machine on my phone. It’s called the Erykah Badu Hotline. It says: ​“Hello, you have reached the Erykah Badu Hotline. If you callin’ for Erykah, press one. If you callin’ to ask for some shit and know she really don’t fuck with you like that, press two. If you callin’ and askin’ her…” There’s about 12 of them. I had to do that just to let people know. I am very aware that things are different and that I have some shit that y’all need. I had to find my place in my success and my family had to find their space in that success. How do you manage?

S: That’s so mad. I don’t tell no one what I’m doing, what I’m up to, what moves I’m about to make. I move low. Whereas sometimes my family, because they’re proud, they have a habit of just discussing [things]. I’ve had to say to them: ​“Protect me.” It was like: ​“Say no more.”“I can be impulsive – if I want it, I want it to be done now”

Little Simz

E: I feel that. I feel like I kind of move in silence as well… I found myself in my early thirties where you are, [not needing] anybody. I had my career – I mean, the whole world was applauding. I didn’t need my family as much [but] they were in my life. My grandmother was my publicist, my other grandmother was my historian – at one time she was my accountant. My mom helped me with my children, my sister was a personal assistant, my brother did merch. Everybody had a place.

S: That’s so interesting. And how was that, working with family? Do you think it’s tricky?

E: It’s tricky because they come with these different personalities and you think family just means loyalty. I got family members that are so loyal to the point where they sacrifice their own feelings for some things that I would want to do. Then I got family members that will say it out loud: ​“I will kick your ass.” There will be a time, I guess I’m saying, where you may be estranged, you know, in order to find a piece of yourself and it’s necessary. But no matter how great you become to the world, you are always – and this is refreshing – little Simma to your family. And they are my asshole checkers. They make sure that I’m not going too far off the deep end. That’s what I appreciate a lot.

S: Every artist has an ego because they’re artists. How much do you lean into that? And do you know when to remove it?

E: Ego is a more intricate thing than I thought it was. Ego is not just a part of your personality that is needy. Ego needs an identity, it needs a conflict, it needs all these things to help it to continue to identify this character that you’ve become. It’s deeper than that because it starts to take over in my mind. The ego wants to hold on to anything that gives it the identity. That feeds it. When they say you can feed the two wolves, whichever one you feed is the one that will become strongest. I feel that leaning back on my family values helped me to make better decisions. Is there anything you’re struggling with in your memory, your mind or your egoic self that you feel you would want to let go of? That does not further your evolution as Simma?

S: Definitely letting go of things. Subconsciously I’ve grown up in a home where, let’s say, my mum hoards stuff – just never [wants to] let go of things. And I understand the sentiment. I understand it’s a memory and it traces back to this. But I’m trying to practise letting go and getting out of the way, especially in my creative process.

THE FACE: Can you explain more about ​“getting out of the way” of your music and art?

S: Sometimes I get in the way and it’s not necessary. To be a vessel is to truly allow something to pass through you. Even if you don’t understand it in that moment, allow it to pass through you and let go of control. It’s OK to take charge. Like we were saying earlier, you realise you’re responsible for all the makings and the doings in your life. But I think as well, there is such a thing as allowing things to be and seeing things through. I’ve had so many songs where I’ve got to the end and done something different, like: ​“Those two lines is a whole other song and actually that’s what it is. But [that wouldn’t have] happened if I didn’t see it through…” [Also] learning to be a bit more patient. I can be impulsive – if I want it, I want it to be done now. I don’t like waiting on people. I’ll just do it myself. But taking time, sleeping on things [is also good]. I wake up in the morning and think: actually, I don’t even feel like that anymore. I’m glad that I slept on it.

THE FACE: How creatively useful is it, meeting with and talking with a figure like Erykah, an artist a generation ahead of you?

S: I think something I would really benefit from is to be [more] honest, [have] more conversations like this. Sometimes I come into spaces and I like asking questions and genuinely love being a sponge, soaking up information – especially when the person is fascinating or has an interesting story, I just wanna know. I wanna learn. I would love more spaces to be held where I can ask questions about things like you said – you’ve been through it and [now] I’m going through it. Not to say you’re gonna tell me to do it this way or I’m totally gonna follow your path. But knowledge that isn’t shared is almost wasted. Whatever I do with that information is up to me. But to be able to know, or to be able to be shown that isn’t the only way, would be helpful to my life in general. What about you?

E: I’m a collector like your mama. I always keep gifts that the fans give me because they took the time to do it. I just don’t like to throw it away. It’s symbolic to me in some way. [But] I’m learning to find another way to see that, as I’m getting crowded out with all of the things because I appreciate them so much. I remember at the very beginning of my career, in 1997 – 98, when people wanted to meet you, when you’re a new artist [at] meet and greets, I would stay to the very end.

They would be stacking chairs on the table and I would stay to the last person, writing things on their paper, on their dollar, or whatever they wanted me to sign! It started out [with] me writing their name, then a: ​“Thank you so much, I really appreciate you. You’re gonna do great and thank you for sharing your life with me in this moment.” Now my shit just be like ​“EB”! But I still have the same energy. I still have the same feeling. I’m just learning to spin it smarter and not work as hard… [But] I always want to give you the most because I’m so appreciative of these people listening to this little girl from South Dallas. It’s me. I’m just Erykah.

THE FACE: From that knowledge, experience and insight, Erykah, do you have any advice for Simz?

E: Don’t believe these negative things people say about you – and believe only half of the good things, because everyone has an agenda. Don’t lose focus of your inner voice. You guys are up against a lot of adversity with social media. I sometimes wanna just jump through the phone on people.

I had to learn [that] these people [online] don’t know you and everybody has an opinion… But [with] all of those things, people are on a mission to chain us down, to prove us wrong, to prove that you’re just as regular as I am. To prove that what you’re doing is not dynamic. But I could see through it: they want to investigate your shortcomings more than they do the things that are great about you. My advice: that don’t matter at all. And I know everybody says that. But it’s a real thing.

S: It’s mad because I really needed to hear that actually. I’m mad sensitive, you know? To everything around me and especially things that are directed at me. [When] it’s a direct attack on my character… for what?

E: You could make the most positive post in the world, but they gonna find something. They gonna tell you: ​“That’s good but you didn’t do this.” Or: ​“You’re not passionate about that. How you gonna do this and you don’t do that?” I’m like: who the fuck? Why y’all in all of my business like this? Social media has given people such an opinion.

S: It’s given them balls. I’m also from a place of: pull up and say it. All this behind the screen stuff? I’m not into it. If I see you in real life we can have a conversation. But I definitely don’t subscribe to that whole [online commenting]. It’s a bit cowardly and, yeah, it’s not my vibe.

E: We definitely not in a pull-up-and- say-it culture right now. I tried that once. I put my location on. I’m like: why did I do that?

S: Really?

E: A long time ago, when I was a young internet-er, back in 2013 or so.

S: Did anyone show up?

E: Nah, no-one showed up.

THE FACE: Erykah, Simz – thank you both for your time. We know you’re busy women and have stuff to do but, before you go, do you each have anything more to say?

E: I guess I would say: I’m your family. I want to extend to you my love and information, wherever that is. Like I said, comedy is my coping mechanism, so you just have to get used to that style. But I’m so happy that I had an opportunity to meet you – and especially have this conversation about family, as we’re becoming family. We got a lot of things to do. I’m so happy we ran into each other [again] at the Met Gala just a couple of weeks ago.

S: Even that! Obviously my body, everything within me, is like: go and say hi! But it’s already a blessing to be in the presence of you [and] I also feel like, if God wants this to happen, he’ll make it happen. And I stepped out, left the party, had my cigarette outside, come back and then boom – you were there. Even to now be having a conversation like this: it must have been written, you know what I mean? Hopefully we have many more.

E: Well, it’s so funny that I got this call to do the interview because two weeks before this, I hit you [saying]: ​“Send me that instrumental to Gorilla.” And you sent it in 48 seconds. So I’m working on something for you. I got a song for us, too. Me and [the producer] Alchemist working on something. I just want to feel that energy you are igniting. It’s really cool. And I think everybody should hear you. It’s ill. Your flow is ill, your wordplay’s ill, your timbre, everything is live. You got a huge, huge, huge, huge future – possibilities are endless for you. And I’m gonna be there to see it.

S: Thank you for doing this, man. I’m just mad grateful, tenfold. And as well, even if I can be of service, I can give however [I can], I can contribute, I’m here [for you] as well. I’m really, really happy we was able to cross paths.

E: This is the beginning of a beautiful one.

HAIR Chantelle Fuller MAKEUP Amirah Ajikawo PRODUCTION Tann Services PRODUCER Katherine Bampton LIGHTING DIRECTOR Eduardo Silva PHOTOGRAPHER ASSISTANT Fallou Seck STYLIST ASSISTANTS Zakkai Jones, Alexandria Smith and Jagger Cruz

[brookstonalmanac]

Beer Events 4.15

Events

Bottle opener invented (1735 or 38)

San Francisco incorporated (1850)

Screw-Top Bottles patented (France; 1852)

Charles Chinnock patented a Beer-Measure (1862)

Anheuser-Busch Brewing Association first used  "Michelob" name (1896)

Pabst Harlem Beer Hall opened (NYC; 1906)

Titanic sank with 500 cases of Bass Ale (1912)

Leopold Nathan patented a Process and Apparatus for the Filtration of Beer Wort for Further Treatment, and for the Filtration of Beer (1930)

Beer became legal in Iowa after Prohibition (1933)

1st McDonald's opened (Des Plaines, IL; 1955)

Harry Stelma patented a Container Tapping Device (1958)

Coors patented a Plastic Bung for a Beer Barrel (1969)

Crown Cork & Seal patented a Plastic Closure with Outside Ring and Inside Tube for Beer and Beverages (1969)

Mack Johnston patented a Tapping Device for Beer Kegs (1969)

Beer cans Collectors of America (BCCA) founded (1970)

Reading Brewing closed (Pennsylvania; 1976)

Samuel Adams Boston Lager 1st for sale (1985)

Truck crash caused 24,000 beer bottles to sink into the Tweed River, where local residents scuba dived for the beer until Police advised they could be charged with theft (New South Wales; 2001)

Pabst announced it would stop brewing Falstaff (2005)

Coors patented a Beverage Holder (2008)

Raul Cano and Fossil Fuels Brewing Co. patented a Novel Yeast Strain (2010)

Brewery Openings

Budejovicky Budvar (Czech Republic; 1895)

Creemore Springs Brewery (Ontario, Canada; 1987)

Dubuque Brewing & Bottling (Iowa; 1991)

Santa Rosa Brewing (California; 1993)

Duster's Microbrewery (Michigan; 1994)

Essex Brewing (Massachusetts; 1994)

Taylor Brewing (Illinois; 1994)

Village Brewing (Texas; 1994)

Black Hills Brewing (South Dakota; 1995)

Jamestown Brewing (Colorado; 1995)

Mad Monk Brewing (Ohio; 1995)

Ruby Mountain Brewing (Nevada; 1995)

Chelsea Brewing (New York; 1996)

Hyde Park Brewing (New York; 1996)

McFarlane Brewing (Arizona; 1996)

Tunbridge Quality Ales / Jigger Hill Brewery (Vermont; 1996)

Yamhill Brewing (Oregon; 1996)

Barbary Coast Brewing (California; 1997)

Southport Brewing (Connecticut; 1997)

Two Brothers Brewing (Illinois; 1997)

Hampden Brewing (Massachusetts; 2010)

[applepies-and-starlight]

Assorted 1:30am oc (and maybe canon) headcanons/facts with absolutely no rhyme, reason, or context go!

Pequod has all of Ahab's drive, obsession, and insanity but none of the captain's revenge motives; she's just here to kill things, hog glory, and fistfight The Whale™ (Whaleship Essex) at the back of an abandoned port at 3am

If you start hearing Pequod's shouts from the other side of port, get ready to hear crunching bone and tearing flesh because Rachel is ruthless when it comes to shanking her (in her defense, if I had to deal with a walking physical disaster for extended periods of time I'd lose my shit quickly too)

Rachel keeps a blue plastic hairbrush in her hull's storage

The Otherworld-Nixies have done a book exchange

Argo II has been electrocuted to death by Nautilus once

Pequod and Rachel once stole a bag of CCS Birmingham's beads and learned the hard way that greek fire can't be put out by normal means

(Rachel claims to be the voice of reason; she is not. She's just Pequod's impulse control and is just as bad)

Whalex has ripped out Pequod's heart on one occasion and crushed her windpipe in another

Whalex has also been given strict orders by Galley to not infect Pequod, as much as she wants to do so

Occasionally, Ruby (Royal Fortune) tries to seduce Ranger; the only results she gets is an incredibly flustered Ranger and Cerise (Good Fortune) whacking her over the head with a tome

(She keeps doing it because it's funny watching Ranger short circuit)

Eighty has that gun that will literally dislocate your shoulder as a part of her rigging

Gerald is a dork. She just has no clue how to express that + she silently enjoys the cool factor

Bethie instantly turns into a pile of anxious mush once she leaves a crowd

Adele does not ask questions about customers, no matter how weird they are

Lucena will occasionally kick Cal's shins in a bout of Cain Instinct

Agincourt has an extensive collection of masks, including ones she's hand-decorated

Yorxtown has a prized gun collection and likes hunting

Hornex often needs to be dragged out by her sisters to go anywhere

Magician has a genuine magic kit in her storage unit

Scripon's hair changes from blonde to greenish-blue when not under direct sunlight

Issac is Tiphereth's de facto second in command and leads the Magical Girl Squad™ during their turn of NatSci receptions

Molly occasionally gets sick from pallidification, those days she drapes herself over/cuddles up to Whalex

Princess Andromeda looks like a Siren to anyone outside of Tempesta, makes her great for infiltration so long as she doesn't go batshit

Unlike Thanatos, Akhlys' form shifts around a lot, since misery is a more fluid concept than death

"What do you have there?" [Holding Pequod's half-dead body by the leg in one hand and a drink in the other] "A smoothie. In fact, it's a new type of juice that the humans came up with recently!"

("For the love of the gods can you please stop killing her?" "Oh zeus forbid women do anythi-" "Argo." "Okok fine geez-")

[ginuki-mga2023mi5015]

Artist Research - artist 1

Chloë Cheese

She is a British artist born in 1952, where she spent the majority of her childhood in southern London observing her parents create art as they were artists and printmakers themselves, so she had been surrounded by art from a young and impressionable age.

Her work often consists of paintings and prints of indoor still lifes which are influenced by her interests in domestic interiors. Additionally, she enjoys ephemeral objects such as fluorescent plastic spoons, a tin can, a bus ticket or her mum's broken ceramics collection.

What attracted me to her work was the simplicity of such a large interior space being framed into a still life which only shows the viewer what Cheese was intrigued by at the time. Her interests that are captured in her work are simple yet they hold a hefty meaning as this shows us what she enjoys as a person which I wanted to incorporate in my own project.

[perfectsmilespa20100]

Clear Confidence: Embracing Invisalign in the Heart of Essex

Introduction:

In the heart of Essex, a revolution in orthodontic care has taken place, and its name is Invisalign. This innovative teeth-straightening system has become synonymous with clear confidence, offering individuals a discreet and comfortable alternative to traditional braces. In this comprehensive guide, we explore the transformative journey of embracing Invisalign in Essex, shedding light on the unique features of this clear aligner system, the process involved, and the multitude of benefits that accompany the pursuit of a confident and aligned smile.

Understanding Invisalign:

Invisalign is a revolutionary orthodontic treatment that utilizes clear, custom-made aligners to gradually straighten teeth. Unlike traditional braces with brackets and wires, Invisalign aligners are virtually invisible and can be easily removed for eating, drinking, brushing, and flossing. The system is designed to address a variety of orthodontic issues, including crowded teeth, gaps, overbites, underbites, and crossbites.

The Invisalign Experience in Essex:

Consultation and Treatment Planning: The Invisalign journey begins with a comprehensive consultation with a qualified Invisalign provider. During this visit, the individual's oral health is assessed, and their smile goals are discussed. Advanced 3D imaging technology is often employed to create a precise digital model of the teeth, allowing for a detailed treatment plan.

Customized Aligners: Based on the treatment plan, a series of custom-made aligners are created specifically for the individual. These aligners are made from a smooth, comfortable, and virtually invisible plastic material. Each set of aligners is worn for about two weeks before progressing to the next set in the series.

Wearing the Aligners: Invisalign aligners are worn for 20 to 22 hours per day, providing a constant, gentle force to guide the teeth into their desired positions. The convenience of being able to remove the aligners for brief periods allows for flexibility in eating, oral hygiene, and special occasions.

Regular Check-ups: Throughout the Invisalign treatment, regular check-ups with the provider are scheduled to monitor progress and ensure that the aligners are effectively moving the teeth. These appointments also offer an opportunity to make any necessary adjustments to the treatment plan.

Benefits of Embracing Invisalign in Essex:

Discreet Aesthetics: Perhaps the most prominent benefit of Invisalign is its discreet nature. The clear aligners are virtually invisible, allowing individuals to undergo orthodontic treatment without the noticeable appearance of traditional braces. This feature is particularly appealing to adults and professionals in Essex seeking a more subtle approach to teeth straightening.

Comfortable Wear: Invisalign aligners are crafted from a smooth and comfortable plastic material, minimizing irritation to the cheeks and gums often associated with traditional braces. The absence of wires and brackets provides a more comfortable overall orthodontic experience.

Removability: The ability to remove Invisalign aligners for eating and oral hygiene is a significant advantage. Individuals can enjoy their favorite foods without restrictions and maintain optimal oral health by easily brushing and flossing their teeth.

Predictable Results: Invisalign treatment is meticulously planned using advanced digital technology, providing a clear roadmap for the gradual movement of teeth. This predictability allows individuals to visualize the expected results before even starting the treatment.

Time Efficiency: In many cases, Invisalign treatment is faster than traditional braces, with an average treatment time ranging from 6 to 18 months. The efficiency of the system is appealing to those in Essex who seek a timely and effective solution for achieving a straighter smile.

Conclusion:

Embracing Invisalign in the heart of Essex is a journey marked by clear confidence, comfort, and transformative results. As the demand for discreet orthodontic solutions grows, invisalign in essex has emerged as a frontrunner, offering individuals a modern and convenient alternative to traditional braces. From the initial consultation to the regular check-ups, the Invisalign experience is designed to prioritize the individual's unique smile goals and lifestyle.

The benefits of Invisalign, including discreet aesthetics, comfortable wear, removability, predictable results, and time efficiency, contribute to its widespread appeal. In the pursuit of a confident and aligned smile, individuals in Essex can trust Invisalign to deliver not only on the promise of straighter teeth but also on the enhancement of overall well-being. Clear confidence is not just a tagline; it's a reality for those who choose to embrace Invisalign in the vibrant heart of Essex.

[abizerkapadia]

Best Plastic Surgeon Dubai

Dr. Abizer Kapadia is the best cosmetic Surgeon in Dubai and holds a thriving practice in Dubai, United Arab Emirates. He routinely takes up Cosmetic and Reconstructive Surgeries in Dubai’s renowned leading hospitals and clinics.

He is partnered with leading hospitals to render his services. In Dubai, he works full-time at Saudi German Hospital as the Consultant Plastic, Aesthetic, and Reconstructive Surgeon. Also, he is recognized as a Fellow Hand and Breast Reconstruction at the Broomfield Hospital, Mid Essex NHS Trust, UK. In addition to this, he is associated as a Fellow Reconstructive Microsurgery with the Tata Medical Center, Kolkata, India. best plastic surgeon in Dubai!