Thank You For Opening My Eyes. Im Sorry For Saying What I Said. The Double Standard Is Unbelievable.

Thank you for opening my eyes. I’m sorry for saying what I said. The double standard is unbelievable.

Johnny Depp lost the UK trial. I’m clearly so fucking mad, and sad, and shocked. But, here’s the thing, I know my personnal feelings don’t really matter at this point. 

What matters is that justice just let down someone that was physically and emotionally abused for years. What matters is that he provided the documents to prove it. What matters is that the court gave reason to an abuser who lied, changed constlantly her version during the process, and provided “evidences” full of inconsistencies. 

What matters is that today, this verdict is an insult to all the victims of domestic violence. Men and women. 

A Newsboy and his Bullets (Willy Wonka x OC) |  Prologue

Elmer Stanley’s ‘World of Candy’ (A heavily edited screenshot of the movie, haha...)

ONE YEAR AGO

“It is with Mr. Willy Wonka at forty-million, Elmer Stanley’s World of Candy, right here.” 

    Elmer Stanley’s beats per minute had never been the same. Forty-million. At the town’s art auction. And luck? It was incredible it did not choose to leave his side. What was more fortunate than needed cash, as well as your art being admired by the world’s most favoured chocolatier? 

    Mr. Willy Wonka was perhaps the most commendable leader in the candy industry’s history. Elmer Stanley’s heart was longing to jump out of his untamed chest. Soon after the crowd disappeared would be his likely chance of finally meeting the man. And, he guessed, from watching bits and pieces of the news, the man was not only shy, but… strange. Strange was the nicest way to put it, the nicest umbrella term for everything he perhaps was. And of course not with negative intent. It was merely another unique factor for appreciation, because after all, Mr. Wonka was the youngest man in history to lead such a vigorous industry such as the confectionary’s, with such rareness in prosperity. In Elmer’s eyes, you were downright crazy if there wasn’t at least a hint of you interested in Willy Wonka.  Not that he was anything more than admirable.

    Blimey, Elmer mentally nudged himself. Don’t go too far with this. You’re here for the money.

   But with what distinctive and strange clothing the chocolatier donned (a cherry red Edwardian overcoat, an Edwardian-collared shirt, a top hat), it was impossible for him to become a blur. Peripheral vision or not, he was always the freestyle musician in a room full of classical artists. So, when Elmer glanced at the line of candidates, he decided it was quite obvious who was sticking their foot the furthest forward to win his painting. 

    Elmer, from the rows of seats, felt his facial muscles tense as Willy Wonka, the amazing chocolatier, waved to the wild audience. 

   “Forty-million is the bid! And the piece is,” the auctioneer bellowed with a bang on his podium, “sold!”

~

Everything had fallen into its correct place, if not to say the least. In a pale corridor outside the auction room where many conversed and sped past, Elmer’s mother of middle age had her thick, tan arms wrapped around her son’s neck, pride written all over her smile. 

    “See, boy,” she mused. “Don’t you ever think about giving up again.”

    “Couldn’t have done it without you, mum.”

    Elmer rubbed his mother’s back in reciprocation. Who better to support him than mother Stanley herself? A true artist herself, one of compassion and altruism. It was hard to believe she’d been through more than Elmer would ever dare to say himself.

    The flashing and clicking of cameras seemed to gradually near, and Elmer had suspected the press’  wish to take more photos.

    He spun around to find himself face-to-face with Willy Wonka.

    “Goodness! I - I am so sorry!” Elmer stammered, heat rushing to his face. “I didn’t see you coming...”

    Willy Wonka merely beamed, wide eyes darting from Elmer to his mother. With gloved hands, he held onto Elmer’s (now-wrapped-in-protective-paper) World of Candy like a certificate of his own. To Elmer, this meant a great deal. He glanced at his mother, who seemed to be left in utter awe. Though it was quite irrelevant, he remembered her humorous wish to romantically associate with him, had she been his age. Anyway, Elmer too was in awe, and realised that from up close, Willy Wonka’s aura of intimidation had disappeared. He also appeared to be at least an inch shorter than Elmer himself, minus the fancy heels he strutted in. What was the pounding heart for?

    The longer Wonka’s bizarre stare on Elmer’s mother, the more he found it a tad uncomfortable. Elmer’s mother returned her son’s gaze and smiled sheepishly.

    “I get it,” she whispered apologetically with a wink at Wonka. “Pleasure meeting you, sir.” Elmer himself felt a tinge of offense towards the candy man, but swallowed it. His mother turned her heel and went off to chat with a photographer.

    Now, he was left with Wonka. And, the press.

    “Could we get a picture of you two?” a photographer asked impatiently.

    Wonka smiled a phony smile, pearly white teeth gleaming, while Elmer chose to awkwardly and ever so slightly lean in. Wonka still held onto Elmer’s work as though it was his own.

    “This way, please,” another requested. A turn of heads in the same direction. 

     A lanky reporter turned to Elmer. “Tell us how it feels to have your painting bought by Mr. Wonka.” He shoved the microphone in the young artist’s face.

    Elmer was a nervous train wreck. “I… it feels great. It’s – it’s such an honour, I-I-I mean, never in my wildest … dreams would I have imagined Mr. Wonka himself to like my art so much, to buy it at such a high price. I mean, I was so sure it wouldn’t turn out great … but here I am! To be remembered for candy, too, I suppose.”

    “And what does your art mean?”

   “Y-you know, like, ever heard of Candy Wonderland? I’ve had several dreams of it; I guess I couldn’t tell you explicitly what it means. I just wanted to see it come to life.”

    He cast a glance at Wonka, whose smile no longer seemed phoney. Elmer quickly turned back to the reporter. 

    “Right on OK,” Wonka murmured as he rested his arm around Elmer’s shoulder temporarily to guide them both around and away from the press. Elmer followed him at least five meters past his mother, feeling himself sweating profusely.

    “It’s great to finally meet you, Mr. Wonka. I think I said this earlier, but today’s events are – were – just unbelievable! I’ve always admired you – your work, it’s truly an honour.”

    Elmer was wrong to expect reciprocity, or even more simple, acceptance.

    “Young man,” Willy Wonka began, although Elmer knew full well that he was the older one, “you’re eating your words. You really should–” Wonka dropped his jaw far, then clicked it back up, “–open your mouth when you speak.” 

    It was hard to deny that Wonka himself had perfect diction. If anything, it was a slap in the face. 

    Wonka then shook Elmer’s quivering hand almost a little too aggressively. “Congratulations, my dear friend.” 

    “For what?” The chocolatier’s grip was insane.

    “Well, for winning the auction, of course!” 

    “But I really should thank you for help–”

    “How do you feel about working for me, Mr?”

   Elmer stopped in his tracks. At once, the overlapping voices silenced. Suddenly, any confusion in conversation vanished. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out until about ten seconds passed.

    “You mean, like, wrapping? Or making the candy?”

    “Absolutely not.”

    There was a long pause, Wonka staring deep into nothings.

    “... Then what?” 

    The chocolatier adjusted the brim of the top hat he was wearing, gripping the painting tighter with his other arm. “You know what? These people have me moving my jaw every second to speak, eventually I’ll have the mandible of a chewing gum champion! Now…” 

    “You mean the press?” Elmer guessed. “Don’t you like interviews?”

   “Oh, no, I hate interviews. They drive me nuts. People are the weirdest thing on this planet, and I say that with precisely no regret.” Wonka grimaced, eyeing the people around him. Then he leaned in. “Now, do be careful with what you say. To anyone. I could sue you, you know.”

    Sue? What in the world had Elmer done illegally?

     “Sorry?” he frowned. “I’m so confused.”

    The chocolatier hesitated. Withdrew himself, seemingly taken aback. “Yeah, but in a few weeks time you won’t be.” He finished the vague sentence with a falsetto tone. That was when he began to trail away, distancing himself with a tip of the hat to Elmer. He clutched that painting tight across his chest, Elmer noticed.

     And with that, Willy Wonka spun on his fancy heel and called, “Keep an eye out for that gosh darn press. Hehe!” before he left.

    To be fair, it was so wrong of Elmer Stanley to think his first encounter with Willy Wonka was to be positively memorable; normal, perhaps. And at that time, there was resentment, mostly confusion, that stood as a barricade for those next few weeks.

    But one year later, Elmer would see himself, along with a hundred other excited folk, setting foot past the handsome and tremendous gates of what was now dubbed as The World’s Greatest Factory Ever.

    Elmer Stanley had so much to offer.

BOTH men and women. Or anyone, really.

Johnny Depp lost the UK trial. I’m clearly so fucking mad, and sad, and shocked. But, here’s the thing, I know my personnal feelings don’t really matter at this point. 

What matters is that justice just let down someone that was physically and emotionally abused for years. What matters is that he provided the documents to prove it. What matters is that the court gave reason to an abuser who lied, changed constlantly her version during the process, and provided “evidences” full of inconsistencies. 

What matters is that today, this verdict is an insult to all the victims of domestic violence. Men and women. 

this was on my Instagram too<3

Johnny Depp can be proud of himself. Trying to fight a corrupt system is very difficult, but he did it because he believes in truth. The world now knows the real truth, the corrupt system says something else, but people know better. He can hold his head high knowing he is doing the right thing. The shame is on them. Johnny is strong and brave, and won’t stop exposing the b*stards. He won’t be silenced, and neither will we!

Same goes for here.

I should add that if you fucking support amber heard, then unfollow me.

Please