#I have a new order t shirt from 1987

[married-to-a-redhead]

I keep what I can of you

Split second glimpses and snapshots and sounds

You in my New Order t-shirt

Holding a cat and a glass of beer

I flicker through

I carry them with me like drugs in a pocket

[neworderscans]

Feeling Electronic: An Interview With Johnny Marr & Bernard Sumner

Despite having turned 40, Bernard Sumner still looks bafflingly boyish. Kitted-out in a close-cropped haircut, baggy T-shirt, jeans and chunky-soled canvas sneakers, he bounds into the bar of Manchester’s Midland Hotel with surprising enthusiasm. Surprising because, as the frontman with New Order, he was always renowned as the most reticent of interviewees. As he smiles and shakes hands, he has the air of a changed man about him. His partner in Electronic, ex-Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr— who at just 32 looks the older of the two — arrives early to Sumner’s late. Immediately he lives up to his reputation and is soon settling down to relaxed chit-chat.

Together, Sumner and Marr represent a fusion of two of the most influential and creative bands of the 1980s. As the musical foil to the lyrical musings of Morrissey, Marr created some of the most memorable guitar songs of that period. Since parting company in 1987, Morrissey has failed to scale the same artistic heights. And, many would argue, so has Marr. Sumner, meanwhile, spent most of the ’80s and part of the ’90s fronting New Order, a band which — unlike The Smiths, who under the influence of Morrissey took a defiant stance against the dancefloor — embraced the influences of hip-hop, New York’s gay club scene and house music, revealing the exhilerating possibilities of an open-minded approach to pop’s eclectic pantheon. New Order’s artistic and commercial peak came in 1989 with the album Technique, their first number one. At the close of that same year, Electronic released their first single, ‘Getting Away With It’, a collaboration with Neil Tennant of the Pet Shop Boys.

“You’ve got to remember I became a lyricist by default when Ian died. Before that point I never had a single dream or desire to become a singer or lyricist. Never!” Bernard Sumner

Unlike Marr, whose split from The Smiths was clearcut, unequivocal and very public, the situation with New Order — in keeping with much of the band’s career — remains uncertain, open-ended, unresolved. A recent interview with Sumner saw The Independent On Sunday describe the band as ‘now defunct’. Sumner offers a subtle variation on that statement. “The truth is that I didn’t say New Order were defunct, the journalist has made his own mind up about that. The situation with New Order is that we don’t have any plans to record together or play any gigs together, but we haven’t broken up. So,” laughs the singer mischievously, “make your own mind up about it.”

Marr, always eager to add some clarity to the cryptic mutterings of Sumner, adds his own slant on the lack of closure to the New Order story: “A band splitting up is a great thing to write about and a great thing to read about, but it’s not necessarily a great thing to be involved with. Events get carried away with themselves and before you know it there’s a lot of bad feeling and a lot of that is caused by outside influences.”

Different angles, different explanations, but the conclusion is the same: the past weighs heavily on the shoulders of both Marr and Sumner. They have a lot to live down, a lot to live up to. In the early days of Electronic they attempted to purge their music of anything that smacked of their previous exploits. That was before they became at ease with their history. Both, after all, are well versed in dealing with their very public pasts. When The Smiths dissolved, Marr’s response was to dive into a number of collaborations — with The Pretenders, The The, Kirsty MacColl and many others — gaining a reputation as a guitar for hire. “The period between The Smiths and Electronic was a matter of being phoned up by people who I really admire and being asked to make records,” he explains.

This time it’s Sumner’s turn to dig beneath the surface of his partner’s words. “After you’ve been in the confines of a band for a while like both of us had, you want to break the mould. As soon as you get out you do everything you couldn’t do within the group. So Johnny played with a load of different people because he couldn’t with The Smiths. I did a lot of remix work. It’s like with the first Electronic album [released June ‘91]: we put our photographs on the album cover because you couldn’t do that [before]. It was a phase we went through. But now Electronic is the main thing for us.”

For Sumner, of course, his whole career as a singer has been a case of shaking off and living up to the past. When Joy Division singer Ian Curtis committed suicide in May 1980 it left Sumner, the band’s guitarist, not only personally distraught but professionally cast adrift. After deciding to continue as a band and adopting the name New Order on the suggestion of their manager Rob Gretton, someone had to take over as singer. Sumner, a man who maintains that he had never written so much as a childhood poem beforehand, got the short straw: “You’ve got to remember I became a lyricist by default when Ian died. Before that point I never had a single dream or desire to become a singer or lyricist. Never!”

“The two of us expect a lot of ourselves and we just cut out the outside world while we were making the album.” Johnny Marr

Sumner’s lyrics have always been a matter of much scrunity, whether it be to ridicule them — lines like, “I would like a place I can call my own / Have a conversation on the telephone” from New Order’s sublime ‘Regret’ have provoked scorn from detractors — or to celebrate their quite touching ambiquity or autobiographical honesty. But Sumner maintains a quite workmanlike approach to the craft — lyrics, he explains, are written after hearing the finished music, and fitted in accordingly.

“Generally I don’t think, ‘Right, I’m going to write a song about this’. I listen to the music and I’ll see what it suggests to me. And lines or pictures — I’ve always thought in pictures — will pop into my head. If it’s a picture I’ll describe the scene.” Sumner is surprisingly self-critical of the results of this process. “Some of the changes in direction in my lyrics aren’t always welcome, sometimes I get it wrong,” he says, “but I write a lot of lyrics through a kind of subconcious flow.”

Still, despite this playing down of his lyrics — he says he finds it difficult to talk about them — last year Sumner was picked as a songwriter worthy of study by the psychologist Oliver James. In a BBC 2 programme, James sought to assess how the anti-depressant wonder drug Prozac affected creativity. Sumner was one of several participants, from artists to writers, who were put under the spotlight. Consequently the BBC cameras showed Sumner both at work in the studio putting together the new Electronic album as well as relaxing with his girlfriend and family.

“This quy from the BBC came to me and said, ‘Would you like to take Prozac? We’re doing an investigation into its effects on creativity.’ His theory was based on the idea that creative people were creative because basically they were fucked-up in some way, and he wanted to test out his theory, ie, you get all these people who are somehow fucked-up — and he obviously thought I was fucked-up in some way — you give them Prozac, they stop being fucked-up, does their creativity dry up? Which is very interesting.”

And? “I’m not fucked-up, I’m like everybody else; I have my up days and my down days. I found taking Prozac very interesting ‘cos it filtered out all the lows. I didn’t find that it affected my creativity in any way at all.”

Both Sumner and Marr were unhappy with the programme’s conclusions — Sumner was described as being depressed and suffering from ‘hyper-critical voices’. But the subject of Prozac does have relevance to the new Sumner, a man for many years renowned for his passionate embracing of Manchester’s nightlife and drug culture. These days he says he goes jogging every day — “It sharpens the mind” — and is cutting down on alcohol after stomach problems aggravated by an excessive intake of Pernod and orange (although he adds with a smile that he’s cured the ailment, so he can now get back on the Pernods). These lifestyle changes, partly the actions of a man coming to terms with his age, have a direct relevance to how Electronic make their music.

“It used to be a party ethic, now it’s a work ethic. We’d stay up all night and party and that’s how we’d come up with songs,” explains Sumner, describing a way of working which stretches back to both New Order and Joy Division. “But we’ve done that, and this is more challenging and more rewarding because you’re in the driving seat!”

Adds Marr: “It wasn’t that we weren’t getting results that way, we just wanted to do something different.”

In the past, most of Sumner’s lyrics were written under the influence of one stimulant or another, aiding the “flow of conciousness”. So how does the all-new Mr (nearly) Clean write his lyrics? “What do I do now? I sit in a fuckin’ room and beat my brains out,” laughs Sumner.

It doesn’t show. The new Electronic album, Raise The Pressure, is a finely-polished, well-balanced pop album, which, despite both Marr and Sumner’s claims to the contrary, has clear referance points to their work with The Smiths and New Order, particularly the latter. Their obvious desire to break from their musical pasts is wholly understandable, yet their inability to do so is not altogether a cause for concern. Raise The Pressure may bear some of the hallmarks of their ‘80s incarnations, but it sounds well-placed for the current pop climate, with its sparkling combination of guitar-pop and electronic house-inflected dance. Two years in the making, it is quite obviously a record constructed by perfectionists.

“All Bernard and I have cared about over the last few years is Electronic and our families, and the balance has shifted towards Electronic,” explains Marr. “That’s been our life. The two of us expect a lot of ourselves and we just cut out the outside world while we were making the album.”

“Ian Curtis turned me on to Kraftwerk in 1977 and when he did I thought it was the most fantastic thing I’d ever heard.” Bernard Sumner

Recorded in a studio in Johnny Marr’s old house — he moved his family into a new house because “it was easier to move my family out than to move Electronic. It just really suited us” — Marr explains that “we kind of designed the record.” Part of that design involved bringing ex-Kraftwerk stalwart Karl Bartos into the creative equation. He co-wrote some of the tracks and assisted with production. For Sumner, working with Bartos was another direct link to his musical past, taking him back nearly 20 years. “Ian Curtis turned me on to Kraftwerk and when he did I thought it was the most fantastic thing I’d ever heard. You’ve got to remember it was 1977 and everything was punk. Ian played me Trans Europe Express, which was like the total opposite, black and white.”

On the few occasions when Marr and Sumner emerged from the self-imposed isolation of their home-studio, they took Bartos on visits to ‘Flesh’ at the Haçienda, the pinnacle of gay clubbing in Manchester — “Which was interesting,” smiles Marr. All part of the Electronic masterplan, a plan which saw them whittle down 40 pieces of music to 16 songs, 13 of which appear on the new LP. The managing director of their label Parlophone claimed recently: “They don’t need our help to make an album, although we had to put a marker down otherwise they might have gone on forever refining it.” Fair comment?

“That’s bullshit that,” smirks Sumner. “No-one put down any markers.” “What, someone from the record company said that?” laughs Marr incredulously. “Neither of us have ever dealt with A&R people in our lives,” asserts Sumner.

The pair say they have total freedom to get on with making records as and when they want. And despite moving from the fiercely Mancunian and fiercely independent Factory for their first album to the London-based major Parlophone (part of EMI) for their second, nothing much has changed. “For us the situation is no different than when we were on Factory,” says Sumner. “During the whole two years we never saw anyone from Parlophone. In fact, I don’t think we’re actually signed to any record label. We’re signed to our production company which then licences product to Parlophone.”

“‘We finance everything ourselves because we want to keep control of everything,” adds Marr. “We take care of the sleeves, we just deliver the whole thing to Parlophone and they sell it.”

This desire to maintain their independence is closely guarded, and is reflected in their continued strong links to Manchester, despite both having good reason to have broken their connections with the city. Originally from Ardwick, Marr saw his childhood haunts demolished to make way for new developments when his family was shipped off to Wythenshawe. Sumner’s Salford childhood was disrupted in a similar way, and the dislocation felt following the flattening of the terraced street he grew up in still surfaces today, the song ‘Second Nature’ on the new LP being an autobiographical appraisal of that early experience.

“We’ve got an office in London [they are managed by Marcus Russell, Marr’s manager since 1988 and now also looking after Oasis] but we hardly ever go there,” says Marr. After touring the world with both of their previous bands, it seems that Electronic are happiest when back home. And as with New Order, whose unconventional approach to promotion surely stopped them becoming U2-style huge, it could prove an obstacle to Electronic’s progress. Despite claiming that they will be playing live to promote Raise The Pressure, long tours are out of the question, says Sumner. “I don’t want to do 28 dates in America and end up in Kansas on a Sunday night, pulling my hair out and wanting to be in Manchester.”

Welcome home, Electronic.

[elskanellis]

musical tag game! thank you to @boxboxlewis for the tag 🖤 (go look at her songs here)

rules: shuffle your 'on repeat' playlist and list the first ten songs, then tag some people.

The rules do not specify that I need to write fucking liner notes about it but oh well! Here we are!

Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want – the Smiths. this is, how you say, one of the songs of all time. I literally sing this one out loud at LEAST once a day and usually thrice.

The Whole of the Moon – the Waterboys. Reminds me of the summer I was 13 and would listen to this over and over on my two-cassette tape deck while sitting in my window seat, leaning my head against the glass and staring at the maple tree that grew like a living screen to cover my windows.

Plainsong – the Cure. Reminds me of the summer I was 16 and would listen to this over and over on my Discman in the middle of the night while sitting on my roof under the same maple tree.

A Case of You (a piano and a microphone) – Prince. This is the demo version and I listen to it a totally normal amount of times.

Since Yesterday - Strawberry Switchblade. I played this a lot while writing a story about mid-1980s goth kids.

Girlfriend in a Coma – the Smiths. Oh my goodness, however did so many Smiths songs get in my On Repeat. Surely I'm not this predictable and/or set in my ways. (I am. But I never would have guessed this song in particular would be a heavy hitter for me?)

Regret – New Order. You've got those Belle + Sebastian vibes (school is awful and no one likes me although I am pure of heart) crossed with "Wouldn't it be loverly?" and I am here for that. i was a short fuse / burning all the time / you were a come-plete stranger / now you are mine.

A Rush and a Push and the Land is Ours – the Smiths. I got my driver's license when I was 27 and inherited a very large medium-old Buick from my grandfather and the very first day I drove it, I slow-motion head-on crashed into another car while/because I was singing along to this song.

Sometimes Always – the Jesus and Mary Chain. You know that post going around about having a t-shirt that says "I survived a teenage homoerotic friendship"? Yeah that's the friend who would send me JAMC songs on mixtapes. We are still friends.

Dear Prudence – Siouxsie and the Banshees. Did you know Siouxsie Sioux is touring this year? Siouxsie Sioux is touring this year. two bonus songs because the Smiths got on here three times and I need to balance that out:

Dream Operator – Talking Heads. This is from True Stories (1987), a true Underrated Gem that is maybe just a squinch too precious but I don't care.

Only You – Yazoo. I would follow Alison Moyet's voice anyfuckingwhere. The scene in The Americans where Phillip buys Paige the Yaz[sic] record is one of the scenes of my heart. tagging @ladderofyears @onemadeofglass @thetimebeforeeternity @thehoneybeet if you are interested!

[denimbex1986]

Two of Europe's hottest stars sit in a green leather armchair each between a movie poster adorned with a bouquet of flowers. They look like two carefree unshaven Irish lads who could be on holiday in the sun. Paul Mescal wears a white t-shirt, while Andrew Scott sports a turquoise "No problem" t-shirt emblazoned with pop culture alien ALF, the 80s sitcom character whose name stands for "Alien Life Form" .

Perhaps a subtle reference to their new film, "All of us strangers"? It is certainly not about aliens, but is in any case a cosmic love story about two extraterrestrial aliens who find each other in a lonely world. At the same time, it is a kind of supernatural "ghost story" about a queer son who gets a second chance to talk to his dead parents.

- Although the role scared the crap out of me, Andrew Haigh's script was the most original I've read in ages. Everything in this film is rooted in tenderness and love – and who doesn't dream of going back and redefining the relationship with their parents, Andrew Scott wonders rhetorically, making a gesture where he is given the opportunity to discreetly flex one of his biceps at a zoom screen from London.

For a Swedish audience, he is perhaps best known for the role of the arch-villain Professor Moriarty in "Sherlock Holmes" and "the hot priest" that Phoebe Waller Bridge becomes obsessed with in the second season of "Fleabag".

Andrew Scott believes that "All of us strangers" is the most personal thing he has done.

- I love the mix of naturalism and surrealism in this film, it's completely different from anything I've played before. I've always wished I was in Derek Cianfrance's tragic love story "Blue Valentine" and suddenly I get a chance at a film similar to "All of us strangers". I've never before brought myself into the role in the same way and for once I didn't have to work on my accent, smiles the Dublin-born actor who has long lived in London.

In "All of us strangers" he plays Adam, a gay writer with writing cramp who slowly falls for his mysterious neighbor Harry (Paul Mescal) who lives in the same soulless and deserted apartment complex in London's East End. Parallel to the budding romance, he commutes to his childhood suburb to meet his dead parents (Claire Foy and Jamie Bell) exactly as old as they were when they died in a car accident when he was 11 years old.

Andrew Haigh got the idea from Taichi Yamada's novel "Strangers" from 1987. After much effort and trouble, he managed to transform the rather traditional Japanese ghost story into something more poetic, psychological and personal.

- I ignited this whole idea of ​​meeting his dead parents again and being able to reconcile with his own past in order to help with the future. It was of course crazy risky, but it wasn't about making a traditional ghost story, but about creating something vulnerable, true and honest that would be an emotional experience, says Andrew Haigh.

In the past, he has directed wayward films such as "45 Years", "Weekend" and "Lean on Pete", as well as TV series such as macho "The North Water" and "Looking", which revolves around three gay friends in San Francisco. "All of us strangers" is his most personal film to date. To get closer, he made the main character a gay writer.

- I am gay and this is a story I have wanted to tell for a long time, a film about the experiences of "queerness", non-heteronormativity, and how it can make people feel like strangers in their own family. The concept of going back in time and dealing with the complicated issues of growing up queer within a family has its own challenges. It's also about the difficulty of parenting and saying the right things at the right time, says Andrew Haigh.

- For me, the film is also about the writing process itself. To investigate one's own past through a fictional world. Not that I look back on my upbringing with a desperate sadness, more curiosity, melancholy and a strange nostalgia. But just like the character Adam, I look back on my own life, says Haigh.

For the director, it was also a highly private experience. Among other things, he filmed several scenes in his real childhood home in Croydon, south London, which he left 40 years ago.

- It was a ghostly experience. Like walking into a haunted house, but it was my memories that were the ghosts. We designed it the same way as when I was a kid. When we finished, I closed the door behind me and experienced a catharsis, as if I was free and could move on, says Haigh.

Nevertheless, it is still not straightforward. In the same vein as he was to film a key scene where the grown-up Adam talks to his father, Andrew Haigh visited his father in the dementia home.

- Although I had the same partner for 18 years, he asked me: "Do you have a wife?". My first thought was, "Oh my God, am I going to have to come out again?", but then I pretended it was raining. Oddly enough, I felt a bit terrified about having to tell him I was gay again - even though he was fine with me coming out in my 20s, says Andrew Haigh.

- So that scene with Adam was extremely difficult to write. I wanted to make it a moment that was as simple as it was meaningful. I was incredibly moved, he says.

In many ways, "All of us strangers" is reminiscent of "45 years", which is also a kind of ghost story. A fate-filled drama about a struggling British couple (Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay) who are suddenly haunted by an old love story just in time for the couple's 45th wedding anniversary.

- Yes, I think there was definitely a similarity between the films. But I've always been interested in the past versus the present because that's how we learn throughout our lives. Our first fifteen years have such a dramatic and profound impact on who we become as an adult, he says.

In "All of us strangers" he fills it with pop music from his upbringing in the 1980s; Pet Shop Boys, The Housemartins and, not least, Frankie goes to Hollywood's "The power of love", which becomes a signature song for the entire film and not least its emblematic final scene.

- There was something in that song that spoke to me already as an 11-year-old without me really knowing about it. A bombastic pop song that is loaded with longing. Actually, it was quite subversive to be mainstream, there's a melancholy and darkness lurking beneath the surface, says Andrew Haigh.

Although Holly Johnson's "The power of love" wasn't exactly Paul Mescal's cup of tea, it helped him get in the right emotional mood during the recording.

- Andrew has interpreted the power of love in the most extraordinary way. This is his way of saying that Adam and Harry's relationship is also a grand love story that has its place up there in heaven with all the other heterosexual love stories. I think it's very beautiful, says Paul Mescal who was Oscar-nominated last year for his performance in Charlotte Wells' Aftersun, where he played a tormented father on his first joint charter trip with his eleven-year-old daughter.

He does not think that the self-confident but traumatized Harry is an essential character from father Callum in "Aftersun".

- Harry belongs to a certain kind of family of characters that I have played, but is also completely different. Subconsciously, I'm obviously drawn to this kind of material that deals with tormented masculinity and humanity, smiles Paul Mescal.

Like Andrew Scott, he is a great admirer of Andrew Haigh's films. In addition to the script, Scott was also a decisive factor in his acceptance. Before "All of us strangers", they had admired each other from afar. The recording turned into a bromance in full bloom that ended with intimate scenes where Paul Mescal "went down" on Andrew Scott co-star and licked a kind of cake mix from the co-star's body. In interviews, Mescal has explained that it was such a powerful moment that it almost scared him.

- Yes, there was a special charge between us. We were both very aware of how intense it was and how we were somehow aware of how committed we were to each other. It is very beautiful that the story often lies in the character who is listening, which is quite unusual. The challenge was to tell a story via sexual intimacy. We treated the sex scenes as if they were dialogue scenes, the only thing different was that we were half-naked, smiles Paul Mescal.

Andrew Scott believes that sex scenes between two male actors often tend to be about raw sexuality, but that "All of us strangers" felt radical because it was more interested in highlighting the tenderness between the characters.

- The first scenes when Adam and Harry meet in the elevator and at the front door trigger the film's sexual charge. When they are separated after the slightly awkward meeting, it creates an urge in the audience for them to reunite. When they finally sit next to each other on the couch and they stare at each other, it gets very, uh, sexy. I like the scene where Adam forgets to breathe because he hasn't been with anyone in a long time, says Andrew Scott.

Like the director, Andrew Scott talks about working on "All of us strangers" as a kind of cleansing bath. Before the recording, they both talked about their experiences in the loneliness of growing up queer in the gap between the 80s and 90s.

- Going back in time can be both anxious and nostalgic. For me, the challenge was trying to bring together Haigh's story with my own story, both the pain and the joy, says Andrew Scott the day after the film's Irish gala premiere in Dublin.

Although he was not entirely comfortable with the idea of ​​being in the same room as his parents when they watch the sex scenes in "All of us strangers", he seems to have managed it without a pillow of shame.

- It was a magical evening in my hometown. My family was there and all the other people I love so much. Suddenly it was as if I saw this whole journey that I've been on, realized that this is a deeply personal film that hit me right in the heart. I really love this movie.'

[wizardingwirelessnetwork]

Weird Sisters aka the famous wizrock band!

The Weird Sisters, are a very popular, all male, Wizarding band! Most magicaly raised children ( from the golden era ) knew and loved them. The band was founded somewhere around 1986-1987, or slightly before, while the first three members ( Myron, Kirley & Orsino ) were still at Hogwarts.

Members:

Myron Wagtail ( Leader & lead singer ) “Myron: Snape once said I look like a half-shaven Hippogriff. - HPHM”

Kirley Duke ( lead guitar ) “Snape: This one never speaks? I can't imagine a better singer for your band. - HPHM”

Orsino Thruston ( drums ) “Orsino: Snape said I look like You-Know-Who if he’d kept his nose, but lost his self-worth - HPHM”

Heathcote Baraby ( rythm guitar )

Donaghan Tremlett ( bass guitar )

Merton Graves ( cello )

Herman Wintringham ( lute )

Gideon Crumb ( bagpipes )

Book Quotes & other Mentions:

“It seemed to be fact, however, that he had booked the Weird Sisters. Exactly who or what the Weird Sisters were Harry didn't know, never having had access to a wizard's wireless, but he deduced from the wild excitement of those who had grown up listening to the WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network) that they were a very famous musical group.” - HP & the Goblet of Fire, Chapter 22

“Then, at a wave of his wand, the tables zoomed back along the walls, leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right-hand wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello and some bagpipes were set upon it.

The Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy, and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn.

They picked up their instruments, and Harry, who had been so interested in watching them that he had almost forgotten what was coming, suddenly realised that the lanterns on all the other tables had gone out, and that the other champions and their partners were standing up.” - HP & the Goblet of Fire, Chapter 23

( from this quote we also get to know, that torn robes are what’s considered “rebellious/cool clothing” in the WW. They are the Wizarding equivalent of a leather jacket and torn jeans in the Muggle world )

“The Weird Sisters stopped playing, applause filled the Hall once more, and Harry let go of Parvati at once.

'Let's sit down, shall we?'

'Oh - but - this is a really good one!' Parvati said, as the Weird Sisters struck up a new song, which was much faster.

'No, I don't like it,' Harry lied [...]” - HP & the Govlet of Fire, Chapter 23

“[…]the morning post was arriving and, as usual, the Daily Prophet was soaring towards her in the beak of a screech owl, which landed perilously close to the sugar bowl and held out a leg. Hermione pushed a Knut into its leather pouch, took the newspaper, and scanned the front page critically as the owl took off.

'Anything interesting?' said Ron. Harry grinned, knowing Ron was keen to keep her off the subject of homework.

'No,' she sighed, 'just some guff about the bass player in the Weird Sisters getting married.'” - HP & the Order of the Phoenix, chapter 14

( The band was famous enough for the marriage of one of their member to make front page in the Prophet )

“Tonks stood just behind him, her bright bubble-gum-pink hair gleaming in the sunlight filtering through the dirty glass of the station ceiling, wearing heavily patched jeans and a bright purple T-shirt bearing the legend The Weird Sisters.” - HP & the Order of the Phoenix, chapter 38

( Tonks was a big fan of the band! We also know from this that there is purchasable merch )

“He pulled Luna after him into the crowd; he had indeed just seen a long mane of brown hair disappear between what looked like two members of the Weird Sisters.” - HP & the Half-Blood Prince

( at least 2 members of the band attended Slughorn’s Christmas party )

“Feeling nervous, Harry followed Ginny into her room.

He had never been inside it before. It was small, but bright. There was a large poster of the Wizarding band the Weird Sisters on one wall, and a picture of Gwenog Jones, Captain of the all-witch Quidditch team the Holyhead Harpies, on the other.” - HP & the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 7

( Ginny is also a big fan of the band! And again - merch )

Weird Sisters are Harry’s favorite band:

“And now here is a question from Amit Ben David from Roshon Israel Video "What music does Harry Potter listen to?"

JK Rowling: That's a very good question. Well..He has recently heard the wizard super group the Weird Sisters who came to the Yule Ball who had an odd assortment of instruments: bagpipes, cello, and the electric guitar of course so I'd have to say they are his favourite group.” - JKR interview 26 June 2003

Songs and lyrics:

“Alright hogwarts!

Are you ready for some real music?

I said are you ready?

Are you ready?

I can't hear ya...

Alright

C'mon, I wanna see your hands in the air

We're gonna teach you a brand new dance tonight

So move your body

You gotta help us, hogwarts

Together we can do this thing!

Are you ready?

Are you ready?

Runnin' like a hairy troll

Learnin' to rock and roll

Spinnin' 'round like a crazy elf

Dancin' by himself

Boogie down like a unicorn

And no stoppin' till the break of dawn

Put your hands up in the air

Like an ogre, just don't care

Can you dance like a hippogriff?

Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma

Flyin' off from a cliff

Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma

Swoopin' down, to the ground

Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma

Wheel around and around and around

Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma

Groove around like a scary ghost

Spooking himself the most

Shake your booty like a boggart in pain

Again and again and again

Get it on like an angry specter

Who's definitely out to get ya

Tap your feet like a leprechaun

Get it on, get it on!

Can you dance like a hippogriff?

Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma

Flyin' off from a cliff

Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma

Swoopin' down, to the ground

Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma

Wheel around and around and around

Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma

Yeah, yeah, yeah!

Oh, come on!

Ooh, you gotta move it!

Gotta move it like a creature

Creature of the night!

Yeah that's right!

A creature of the night!

Well do ya feel alright?

Yeah, do ya feel alright?

Can you dance like a hippogriff?

Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma

Flyin' off from a cliff

Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma

Swoopin' down, to the ground

Ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma ma

Wheel around and around and around

C'mon!

C'mon!

Yeah, can you dance like a hippogriff?”

“When all is dark and there’s no light

Lost in the deepest star of night

I see you

Your hands are shaking baby

You ain’t been sleeping lately

There’s something out there

And it don’t seem very friendly does it?

If I could help you I would help ya

But it’s difficult

There’s something much more powerful

Than both of us possessing me

I’ve got to get to grips

I don’t want to feel like this

Your voice keeps haunting me

I cannot eat or sleep

I’m going crazy in this hazy fantasy

You put a spell on me

Aw but I ain’t going down at all

So take your hands off me

Tonight I’m breaking free

This is the night

This is the night

So take your hands off me

Tonight I’m breaking free

This is the night

This is the night

There was a time

I would have walked on burning coals for you

Sailed across the ocean blue

Climbed the highest mountain

Just to call your name

The moon throws down its light

And cuts me to the quick tonight

The change is in the air

And nothing will ever be the same

You still look good to me

Oh but you're no good for me

I close my eyes

And squeeze you from my consciousness

And in the morning when I wake

I walk the line I walk it straight

But the morning so many miles away

Good God now

So take your hands off me

Tonight I'm breaking free

This is the night

This is the night

So take your hands off me

Tonight I'm breaking free

This is the night

This is the night

This is the night (This is the night)

This is the night

Oh yeah

This is the night

All right

This is the night

This is the night”

“This song is going out to all the lovers out there

Hold each other tight and keep each other warm

And dance your final dance

This is your final chance

To hold the one you love

You know you've waited long enough

So believe that magic works

Don't be afraid of bein' hurt

Don't let this magic die

The answer's there

Oh, just look in her eyes

And make your final move

Mmm, don't be scared

She wants you to

It's hard you must be brave

Don't let this moment slip the way

Believe that magic works

Don't be afraid, afraid of being hurt

No, don't let this magic die

Ooh, the answer's there

Yeah, just look in her eyes

And don't believe that magic can die

No, no, no, this magic can't die

So dance, your final dance

'Cause this is, your final chance”

“Blood Sucker”

Only thing known about the lyrics of this song is that these are the 3 options for the opening line:

“Skreek and skrawk, hear him talk”

“Let this creature be your teacher”

“Let the wretched revolution begin”

[tinamrazik]

DEF LEPPARD – LIVE IN CONCERT REVIEW, AUG 9TH, 2024

AT ‘HARD ROCK LIVE AT SEMINOLE HARD ROCK HOTEL & CASINO HOLLYWOOD, FL’

THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN AND READY TO ROCK

If cats truly have nine lives, then Def Leppard is the epitome of that statement. Overcoming adversity, loss, and great success, they have remained one the staples in rock-n-roll history. An early darling of the fledgling MTV Music Television network (debuting in 1981), Leppard was on heavy rotation for most of the first years of the network. Their videos played at least twice an hour, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Making the group not only one of the most popular but lucrative rock bands in history. They have sold over 120 million albums worldwide; played over 2500 shows and have been inducted into the Rock-And-Roll Hall of Fame. Not too shabby for the lads from Sheffield, England.

This evening in Hollywood Florida at the Hard Rock Live, a sold-out Def Leppard performance was in order. Celebrating the 40th anniversary of their history making album, “PYROMANIA,” and their current Stadium Tour, everyone was ready to get rocked. The first thing you noticed was the floor (no-seating) in front of the stage. The VIP Access was standing room only, literally. It reminded me of the ole fashioned mosh pit from back in the day. For those of you too young to know the reference, Google it. Center stage itself projected into the VIP Access audience, giving the rest of us a closer look at the band once they ventured out. The multi-generational audience consisted of old-time rock-and-rollers, the eighties set (it’s a good thing they saved their wardrobe-spandex, frills and all), and the diehard Leppard faithful (clad in Leppard concert t-shirts from every era). The show’s production was in a futuristic vein. Fifteen minutes before showtime, a PYRO CLOCK appeared on the video screens, signaling the countdown to liftoff. Two minutes and counting, the projection video behind the stage played an amazing sequence of the ‘mothership’ coming into dock at the Hard Rock Live itself. Alien, possibly, Terminator, definitely. Whatever the take, it was very cool and unique.

Kicking off their set was the classic, ROCK ROCK (TILL YOU DROP), it was clear to see, the band was in fine form. Joe Elliot was in great voice. Recently celebrating his 65th birthday, the silver maned frontman commanded the stage like a maestro conducting an orchestra. Many times, during the show leading the audience in sing-alongs. Not that we needed much encouragement. Vivian Campbell and Phil Collen on guitars and backing vocals, struck every note with precision and a rock sensibility of ‘take no prisoners guitar riffs and solos.’ Rick Savage on bass, held the beat with finesse and power. Rick Allen on drums, the Thunder God, was solid as ever, smiling throughout the entire set. I watched you on the screen Rick. You were having the time of your life, and it showed.

The setlist for the show was heavy on the hits with a couple new tunes thrown in. ROCKET, ARMAGEDDON IT, ANIMAL, LOVE BITES, all from ‘HYSTERIA,’ released in 1987, brought back the best rock music has to offer. I can still visualize all the videos released that I watched over and over. Iconic doesn’t begin to describe their influence on the music scene. The handful of gems from ‘PYROMANIA,’ garner the loudest and most frenzied response. Classics, FOOLIN,’ ROCK OF AGES, and PHOTOGRAPH were monstrous. TWO STEPS BEHIND, was a highlight of the show as Elliot took center stage with guitar in hand.  Speaking of guitar, the band’s acoustic version of THIS GUITAR, all members taking the front together in a circle, was certainly memorable. Of course, no Leppard show would be complete without the encore of HYSTERIA and POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME. One could feel the rafters of the Hard Rock Live shake. For those that believe ‘rock is dead,’ it’s clear they’ve never seen Def Leppard live in concert. Rock is alive and well and is riding shotgun with the band.

[c-40]

A-T-3 145 The Smiths - Hand In Glove

Yes, we may be hidden by rags But we've something they'll never have

The Smiths debut single was released May 1983 (specifically the 13th, so if you want 40-years to the day you need to wait another week.) It's probably the only single of their's that didn't top the UK indie singles chart, getting to number three. I know Blue Monday by New Order kept Hand In Glove off the top spot by being at number one, but I don't know who was number two May/June 1983

I was too young to appreciate The Smith when they emerged, I got into them when I hit my teens and then they split up! (although 1987 was a great year for releases by The Smiths.) I've read their arrival was a relief for fans who wanted music that had nothing to do with punk, and sure This Charming Man entering the UK singles chart and their appearances on Top Of The Pops felt like something different was here. I was only young but I noticed the change in fashion of people 5-10 years older than me. This was a time unlike today when youth groups were recognisable by how they dressed. From the get go Morrissey had his accessories, the quiff, then the anti-star NHS specs, hearing-aid, denim jeans with the gladioli in his back pocket, t-shirt, charity shop shirt or cardigan

The Smiths captured the indie fan/student look, but if you follow this blog you've seen were many many other acts making intelligent music unattached to punk rock such as Felt, The Pale Fountains, Strawberry Switchblade... I'd argue with hindsight The Smiths didn't fall far from punk. Morrissey was famously at the Sex Pistols first Manchester gig and he later fronted a punk band called The Nosebleeds. There are a lot of rockabilly similarities, Morrissey's quiff and the ghostly vocal on Hand In Glove are reminiscent of Joe Meek. Mike Joyce and Andy Rourke belt out the drums and bass like, say, Lonnie Donnigan's band, they're a powerful galloping rhythm section. The difference to other jangle bands at the time was The Smiths were just better, better songs, better performers, and cocksure with it. Johnny Marr is a brilliant guitarist, in his shades he has a bit of The Velvet Underground about him. Morrissey and Marr famously loved the girl groups and solo artists of the sixties, and 1960s pop in general, The Ramones adored Phil Spector and who is more punk than The Ramones. You wouldn't call The Smith a retro band like you would Oasis or other bands in the mid-1990s, only 10-years-later. The Smiths channel nostalgia to create something new for the 1980s (I'll have to think about how this might be different from a band like The Strokes or nostalgic tv series such as Mr Robot or Stranger Things). It now plainly clear Morrissey's obsession with nostalgia for the working-class of the 1960s became problematic

Morrissey, like Madonna, made a successful effort to become an icon in his own right, although unlike Madonna that star has tainted. As well as photo's of Morrissey posing as Billy Fury (Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me) or a young Elvis (Shoplifters Of The World Unite) or some similar pop idol in the NME, Melody Maker, and Sounds, he put his own spin on Andy Warhol's Icon series (the sleeve for debut album features Joe Dallesandro from Andy Warhol's Flesh, Candy Darling appears on the sleeve of Sheila Take A Bow). This was the duotone "cover star" curated by Morrissey (often assisted by iconic graphic designer Caryn Gough) adorining every The Smiths release while they were on Rough Trade records. The Smiths "cover stars" are cultural signifiers, images are taken from kitchen sink dramas of the 1960s, as do some of Morrissey's lyrics.  "I'll probably never see you again" is a line from Salford playwright Shelagh Delaney's A Taste Of Honey and The Lion In Love, the first of many references to the playwrights work. Delaney appears as a "cover star" on two of The Smiths releases. Morrissey said in 1986 "I've never made any secret of the fact that at least 50 percent of my reason for writing can be blamed on Shelagh Delaney." What we see in Morrissey writing is the separation of working-class northern Englishness from the rest of England, he shows this fracture in England. When Morrissey nostalgically references British poets and literature he evidences the flow of immigration from Dublin to Manchester (or Liverpool, or Birmingham) indicating northern England has more in common with Ireland than the Home Counties

"There's more to life that books y'know, but not much more." These references were ambrosia to working-class autodidacts (especially those in the north) with Morrissey as our cultural gatekeeper. You can argue the signs were there but when Morrissey took his white nationalist turn it was heartbreaking, like a betrayal - I've mentioned cognitive dissonance before, changing your idea of someone is painful. Nick Cave is attending the coronation today, his wife Susie Cave is worn by Kate Middleton, and he came to the defence of Morrissey

Hand In Glove was released as a one off offer for The Smiths by Rough Trade, it was recorded at the legendary Strawberry Studios in Stockport (built by 10cc) and produced by themselves. The session was one day but Morrissey unhappy with his vocal went back in to rerecord his part

[giorno-plays-piano]

Come play with me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, home invasion, allusion to stalking and non-con.

Words: 1987.

Summary: Having to deal with Bucky Barnes, a talented head engineer who you have to convince cooperating with your boss, you suddenly discover his psychopathic tendencies. Worse, he has taken an eerie interest in you.

_______________________

“Listen, dear, I know what he asks for seems like something very inappropriate, but, in fact, the guy just likes you and-”

“No, Mr. Simons, he doesn’t just like me.” You snapped, bringing the cellphone closer your face. “This madman asked me to be at his disposal any time he wants. Please, don’t try to convince me it’s okay because this is madness.”

“I know, I know, he sounds like a psycho, but he’s not. Mr. Barnes is just... difficult. He needs to work on his communicational skills, he admitted it himself during our meeting today.” Your boss - or rather your ex-boss - was almost pleading you to listen to him, but you had enough of this nonsense. Nothing could change your mind after yesterday’s humiliating encounter with James Buchanan Barnes, the head engineer of HYDRA Corp.

“Sir, I have already submitted the resignation form. I perfectly understand the position you are in, but I’m not going to become a toy of this psychopatic man-child.” You answered firmly, looking at your lovely blue clock on the wall and knowing it was too late for any work calls. “Goodbye, Mr. Simons. Have a nice evening.”

Before he tried saying anything else to make you change your decision, you had turned your phone off and put it on your desk, sighing. You could never imagined one day you would face a situation like that.

Yes, when your boss got a promotion, you were truly happy for him. It also meant that you, his secretary, would now get a different type of tasks since you worked more like his personal assistant rather than someone who simply answered the phone calls and built his schedule. A raise was also quite nice. What you didn’t expect was having issues with Bucky, the genius the whole corporation knew about. He was that very same man HYDRA owed its success to as his innovative approach made the company widely known in the whole world for its - his - active protection systems. Barnes was now working on the brand new weapon system control, but he had never submitted sufficient reports, and, apparently, the previous executive left exactly because of Bucky and his wild temperament.

Despite the fact that he was a legendary figure, you had never met him or dealt with him directly. And since now Barnes became your boss’ pain, he became yours, too.

First, it was impossible to set a meeting with him directly. Mr. Simons wanted to take care of this issue himself and emailed Bucky multiple times, but always got the same dry answer that Barnes is too busy. Of course, he never answered any calls - until it was you calling him. Oddly, he was eager to talk to you. It took you just two calls to organize an online meeting for your boss, and, finally, yesterday you got to see the mysterious genius with your own eyes.

He was nothing like you expected. He wasn’t some skinny geek wearing glasses on his long nose, but a beefy man, his shoulders twice wider than your boss’. Barnes had dirty disheveled hair and a three-days beard, but, aside from that, he looked more like a star athlete rather than a nerdy engineer. He dressed in a pretty weird fashion, wearing tight t-shirts, leather pants, chains and heavy studded boots, but criticizing his style wasn’t a part of your job. You needed the reports he refused to submit and get him to attend the meetings.

Of course, he blamed everything on too many bureaucratic procedures and lack of time for anything but his new project. Even while speaking to the two of you he was pacing back and force in his laboratory, fetching this and that, fiddling with something that looked like a futuristic gun from one of Scott Ridley’s movies, his table full of screws and nails, markers, dirty papers, and metal parts of something you couldn’t recognize. Now you could see the true technological genius everyone was talking about.

However, you weren’t satisfied with the lack of information he was willing to give about his project. Barnes had a ridiculous amount of privileges, able to order whatever supplies he needed without anyone’s approval and working in a total secrecy, but HYDRA’s board of directors was growing tired of his reticence and temper tantrums Barnes was throwing every time someone tried to uncover his secrets. The career of your boss was at stake, and you needed Bucky to cooperate. You doubted the company would be willing to get rid of its most valuable employee, but the board of directors could easily limit his access to many of his beloved projects and make his life much more difficult.

Discussing the endless possibilities of what could happen if Barnes still refused to cooperate, you realized he wasn’t worried even the slightest bit. But he agreed to submit the reports if 1) he would get the team of engineers he picked by himself to help him with his project, regardless of whether they are involved with other things 2) he would get you “at his disposal any time he wanted”. Of course, at first you thought it was some kind of weird joke. Who in a right state of mind would ask for anything like this? You tried to laugh it off along with your boss, who was as shocked as you.

Then you figured out Barnes was dead serious. He wanted you.

Of course, you weren’t having it. Maybe your boss career was at stake, but it was his business, not yours. If the only thing he could offer you was being Barnes’ toy for the sake of the corporation, you would prefer to leave your place and find a position somewhere else.

How could he even suggest submitting to that psycho? Who did he think you were? A doll? A disposable Barbie or something? Even thinking of that was making you furious.

Sighing, you dropped your phone on the table and went to the kitchen to have a glass of wine. Despite the fact that you had already submitted the resignation form, you still needed to keep working before Mr. Simons would find a new secretary. It meant you would hear him pleading you to stay every day, and it wasn’t going to be nice. This damn Barnes made your life insufferable with just a couple of sentences.

Of course, you weren’t going to keep calling Bucky or trying to talk to some sense into him. Fuck that. Barnes was totally mad, and you weren’t having more of his bullshit.

Suddenly, the lights went out, and you stilled, growing in frustration. What the hell? You had to carefully put an empty glass back on the counter and move to your room again to take the phone. Glancing out of the window, you saw that it was just your apartment while others had light in them. Oh, perfect.

“Why do I pay for all this new technology that never works?” You growled in frustration, rooting around to find your phone.

“That’s a good question. To be honest, I wouldn’t.”

You froze. Somebody was in your room. Turning around quickly, you had finally found your phone and touched the screen - the subtle blue glowing lit Barnes’ gloomy face, and for a few seconds he narrowed his eyes as your phone blinded him.

Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” You whispered in terror, stepping away from him and visibly shaking. God, how did he get through the security system? You had just installed a pretty expensive one, made by...

By HYDRA Corp.

“You see, your security system has so many drawbacks I hacked it even without a proper preparation. You have to consider switching to something more solid.” He said calmly as he made a step towards you. In the darkness of the room he looked even more intimidating with his long dark hair hanging on his eyes, his huge figure looming over you as you ended up being pressed to the wall. “You know, since you were so enthusiastic in the beginning, I expected you to act... more professional.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were trapped between the wall and Barnes’ body as you stared into his face, terrified to the core. What was he doing here? Did he break into your home just because you refused him? Was he damn insane?

Oh yes. Yes, Barnes was.

“You know, we can have so much fun together if you just leave your pathetic boss and come play with me.” He tilted his head to the side, letting his disheveled hair fall on his broad shoulder and taking away the phone from your hand. “You’re a smart girl, aren’t you? I know how much you’re doing while Simons pretends it’s all him. Aren’t you tired of it?”

Well, it was true. Your boss had finally offered you a promotion after you would take care of Barnes issue, so you didn’t complain, waiting for your chance. It was all over now.

“And what do you suggest?” You asked, knowing you needed to somehow get away from this psycho and run to the door.

“Take care of me instead of him.”

You clenched your teeth as Barnes got closer, almost touching the tip of your nose with his, his icy blue eyes fixated on you. You felt the strong smell of cigarettes coming from him and winced from this unwanted intimacy. Barnes was too close to let you get away.

“What do you mean? I don’t think you need a secretary.” You played innocent, not looking him into eyes and staring at something on your right. Now your eyes almost adjusted to the darkness surrounding you.

“I can get you a better position, baby. A project manager, huh? You will ensure me and my team do things right.” His hot breath was burning your skin as Bucky nuzzled against your cheek, making you squirm. “You’ll be the one overseeing the development of a new system, and I get to have you close all the time. Besides, your paycheck gonna be way bigger. Isn’t it nice?”

“I don’t think I have sufficient skills for this job.” You mumbled meekly, squeezing your eyes shut when he put his hand on your shoulder gently. “The Corporation won’t allow me to take this position.”

There was a smug grin on his face. “Oh dear, you’re perfect for the job, I know it. And don’t you worry about the Board of Directors, I can be quite... persuasive.” As he smiled at you, you were ready to cry in front of him, so frightened and almost hysterical.

“What do you want from me, Barnes?” You pleaded in distress, tired and scared of the game he was playing with you.

He took your arm in his and made you move to the bed, forcing you to sit down while he hovered over you, brushing his long hair out of his face and tucking one of his locks behind the ear. Then Barnes cupped your chin with his hand, making you look directly at him.

“Come play with me, baby.” He cooed gently at you, wiping away a tear running down your cheek. “I want you close. Come to me. Talk to me. Have fun with me. I’m not asking much, am I?”

“We’ve only met yesterday. Why-”

You heard him chuckling and got silent immediately. You didn’t like that creepy smile on his face. Why did he look like you were wrong? You knew for sure you didn’t meet him before - who could possibly forget someone like Bucky Barnes - but his smile was telling you that he knew you from somewhere before your yesterday’s encounter. Where else could he meet you? You had no idea.

“It’s alright, dear. You’ll have enough time to know me better.” Barnes whispered, rubbing your chin with his thumb and closing the distance between the two of you. “We’re gonna have lots of fun together.”

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne​ @alexakeyloveloki​   ​@helenaeisenhower​ @villanellevi​ @hurricanerin​ ​@void-hoechlin​ @abyssaint​ @heeeyitskay​ @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @navegandoaciegas​ @rosalynshields​ @brattycherubwrites​ @sllooney​ @angrythingstarlight​ @iheartsebastianstan​ @soleil-dor​ @iheartsebastianstan​

[emometalhead]

Thanks for the tag, Harlow and @sympathyforthegroupie!! @oxymarine

1.) What is the first song you remember hearing?

I'm not entirely sure. I have early memories of Drive My Car - The Beatles, Since You Been Gone - Kelly Clarkson, and Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen.

2.) What was the first band you got into?

Fall Out Boy

3.) Do you collect music on any physical format?

Yes! Mostly CDs, but I'm slowly building up a record collection. I also hope to collect cassettes eventually.

4.) What is your most treasured piece of music memorabilia/merchandise?

My 1987 vinyl of Appetite For Destruction - Guns N' Roses is a prized possession. My reputation era Taylor Swift t-shirt also means a lot to me, because it was my first Taylor merch, and I wore it to her concert.

5.) What is your favorite concert you've been to?

Taylor Swift or Metallica!!

6.) If you could see one artist (or band) who is no longer alive in concert, who would it be?

I would see Linkin Park with Chester Bennington

7.) Have you met any musicians?

No, but I've been so close! I almost got to meet Bea Miller at a concert, but I was too anxious when I saw her security, and I left 😭. I also could've met From Ashes To New at a concert, but my dad and I ended up going back to our seats to avoid missing the next band's set.

8.) What is your go-to song/album when feeling sad?

Album: A Thousand Suns - Linkin Park

Song: Anti-Everything - DED or Don't Cry - Guns N' Roses

9.) What is your go-to song/album when feeling happy?

Album: Save Rock and Roll - Fall Out Boy

Song: Come On Eileen - Dexys Midnight Runners, Slither - Velvet Revolver, or Nookie - Limp Bizkit

10.) What is one music related documentary you love?

Miss Americana!! (Taylor Swift)

11.) What is one concert DVD you love?

Panic! At The Disco live in Denver!!

12.) Do you prefer listening to playlists or full albums?

Almost always playlists, but it can depend.

13.) Do you tend to listen to albums in order or on shuffle?

In order!!

14.) What is your favorite deep cut song by your favorite artist?

She's My Winona or w.a.m.s. - Fall Out Boy

15.) What is your favorite CD/vinyl/cassette you own in terms of packaging?

Lover - Taylor Swift!! It's cool that the CD is encased in the journal. Also, it came with a poster I love, and I think the album cover is gorgeous.

Tagging: @metallicasbian @smokeandmirrorz @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands and anyone else that wants to do this!!

[kellerose]

Barbara Kruger: the Conceptual Art that Criticized Society

Barbara Kruger is an American conceptual artist born on January 26, 1945, in Newark, New Jersey. Her works were relative to the early products she made as a graphic designer. Kruger was known for the boldness of her words that overlaid black-and-white photographs from multi-media material, such as magazines. Kruger used short and directive slogans to portray simplistic, yet unforgettable pieces of visual media. 

The words and phrases in her pieces are usually directed towards the stereotypes and behaviors of consumerism. As an anti-consumerist herself, she took it as an opportunity for her to express the ridiculous behaviors that were spreading throughout society. Kruger also displays a sense of feminism in her works as a way to highlight the difficulties that women have to go through in the same society she constantly critiques. I shop, therefore I am (1987) and Your body is a battleground (1985) are some of her most memorable pieces that portray her message quite clearly.

You would be able to see her work displayed on billboards, t-shirts, posters, and even chess boards. The now 76-year-old New York and Los Angeles artist can now see her art displayed in places such as The Museum of Modern Art in New York, the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., the Art Institute of Chicago, and the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis, to name a few. 

source: https://www.thebroad.org/art/barbara-kruger/untitled-your-body-battleground 

As I did more digging, the work above entitled Your body is a battleground was created in 1989 to be an image used for the Women’s March in Washington. In the image above, you can see a woman staring straight ahead with a vertical line cutting her face in half; the left side shows a positive filter while the right side is a negative filter. The use of positive and negative lighting could contribute to the idea of a battleground, as used in the bolded, red-accented words displaying over the picture. The battleground in this case is talking about the debate of the issue between a women’s right to choose. 

When looking at this image from a cognitive perspective, it wasn’t hard to recognize that her main courses of appeal in the artwork was with memory, culture, and words. She is appealing to the issues plaguing her society about Women’s rights. The history behind this image will surely make the piece more memorable. That goes the same with the cultural impacts that had created this work. How the people were reacting and behaving to this kind of issue impacted how this piece was created. Kruger’s use of bolded and Futura Bold Oblique words brought it all together. Without the strictly and aggressive phrase of “Your body is a battleground” some people may not have known what the image stood behind. The phrase is split from top, middle, and bottom of the picture to emphasize the seriousness of the phrase. It gives off something similar to this: “Your body. Is a. Battleground.” The sense of pausing in-between the words of the phrase really sets the tone of the overall image.

source: https://alexkershawmajournal.wordpress.com/category/testing-boundaries/page/2/

A Barbara Kruger image that was just as memorable and popular as Your body is a battleground, is the 1987’s I shop therefore I am. This piece is a personal favorite of mine out of all of the images I have seen. Although all of her pieces were so intriguing to learn about, I felt this one was the most interesting. In this image you can see a hand, again in the black-and-white filter, reaching out and looks to be holding the words. Again in Furtura Bold Oblique font, the words are seen red-accented to contrast and pop out from the black-and-white background.  

Kruger again uses the same techniques of memory, culture, and words to appeal in her art. In 1987, the society was shifting into a state of consumerism. Since the industrial revolution, thousands of material-making companies were created that made people ache to buy, buy, and buy. It started to feel like people needed materialistic things in order to survive, which is the whole meaning behind this image. The words “I shop therefore I am” is a spin off from the infamous phrase “I think Therefore I am” created by French philosopher, Rene Descartes. Just like Descartes’ meaning of thinking being the overall proof of existence, Kruger’s meaning behind the phrase is how society needs materials to prove that they have existence. What’s interesting is that the hand is seemingly holding the words as if it is a material that was bought by the consumer. The ridiculousness of the consumer-driven society Kruger found herself in was the reason she made such an impactful statement within this piece.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sources: 

Barbara Kruger. www.artnet.com/artists/barbara-kruger/.

“Barbara Kruger.” Barbara Kruger - 142 Artworks, Bio & Shows on Artsy,    www.artsy.net/artist/barbara-kruger.

Barbara Kruger's I Shop Therefore I Am - What You Should Know. 29 Jan. 2021,  publicdelivery.org/barbara-kruger-ishop/#:~:text=The%20catchphrase%20%E2%80%9CI%20shop%20therefore,proof%20that%20they%20did%20exist. 

Kim, Adela H. Your Body Is A Battleground: ARTS: The Harvard Crimson. 9 Apr. 2014, www.thecrimson.com/column/the-art-of-protest/article/2014/4/9/art-of-protest-your-body-is-abattleground/#:~:text=However%2C%20the%20words%20%E2%80%9CYour%20body,body%2C%20yet%20directly%20affects%20her.

Lester, Paul Martin. Visual Communication: Images with Messages . Sixth ed., Michael Rosenberg, 2014.

[brightbeautifulthings]

MAYHEM BY ESTELLE LAURE BLOG TOUR & CHAPTER EXCERPT

The Lost Boys meets Wilder Girls in this supernatural feminist YA novel.

Available July 14th, 2020

It's 1987 and unfortunately it's not all Madonna and cherry lip balm. Mayhem Brayburn has always known there was something off about her and her mother, Roxy. Maybe it has to do with Roxy's constant physical pain, or maybe with Mayhem's own irresistible pull to water. Either way, she knows they aren't like everyone else.

But when May's stepfather finally goes too far, Roxy and Mayhem flee to Santa Maria, California, the coastal beach town that holds the answers to all of Mayhem's questions about who her mother is, her estranged family, and the mysteries of her own self. There she meets the kids who live with her aunt, and it opens the door to the magic that runs through the female lineage in her family, the very magic Mayhem is next in line to inherit and which will change her life for good.

But when she gets wrapped up in the search for the man who has been kidnapping girls from the beach, her life takes another dangerous turn and she is forced to face the price of vigilante justice and to ask herself whether revenge is worth the cost.

From the acclaimed author of This Raging Light and But Then I Came Back, Estelle Laure offers a riveting and complex story with magical elements about a family of women contending with what appears to be an irreversible destiny, taking control and saying when enough is enough.

About the Author:

Estelle Laure, the author of This Raging Light and But Then I Came Back believes in love, magic, and the power of facing hard truths. She has a BA in Theatre Arts and an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts in Writing for Children and Young Adults, and she lives in Taos, New Mexico, with her family. Her work is translated widely around the world. 

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Read on for a special chapter excerpt of Mayhem!

three Santa Maria

“Trouble,” Roxy says. She arches a brow at the kids by the van through the bug-spattered windshield, the ghost of a half-smile rippling across her face.

“You would know,” I shoot.

“So would you,” she snaps.

Maybe we’re a little on edge. We’ve been in the car so long the pattern on the vinyl seats is tattooed on the back of my thighs.

The kids my mother is talking about, the ones sitting on the white picket fence, look like they slithered up the hill out of the ocean, covered in seaweed, like the carnival music we heard coming from the boardwalk as we were driving into town plays in the air around them at all times. Two crows are on the posts beside them like they’re standing guard, and they caw at each other loudly as we come to a stop. I love every- thing about this place immediately and I think, ridiculously, that I am no longer alone.

The older girl, white but tan, curvaceous, and lean, has her arms around the boy and is lovely with her smudged eye makeup and her ripped clothes. The younger one pops some- thing made of bright colors into her mouth and watches us come up the drive. She is in a military-style jacket with a ton of buttons, her frizzy blond hair reaching in all directions, freckles slapped across her cheeks. And the boy? Thin, brown, hungry-looking. Not hungry in his stomach. Hungry with his eyes. He has a green bandana tied across his forehead and holes in the knees of his jeans. There’s an A in a circle drawn in marker across the front of his T-shirt.

Anarchy.

“Look!” Roxy points to the gas gauge. It’s just above the E. “You owe me five bucks, Cookie. I told you to trust we would make it, and see what happened? You should listen to your mama every once in a while.”

“Yeah, well, can I borrow the five bucks to pay you for the bet? I’m fresh out of cash at the moment.”

“Very funny.”

Roxy cranes out the window and wipes the sweat off her upper lip, careful not to smudge her red lipstick. She’s been having real bad aches the last two days, even aside from her bruises, and her appetite’s been worse than ever. The only thing she ever wants is sugar. After having been in the car for so long, you’d think we’d be falling all over each other to get out, but we’re still sitting in the car. In here we’re still us.

She sighs for the thousandth time and clutches at her belly. “I don’t know about this, May.”

California can’t be that different from West Texas.

I watch TV. I know how to say gag me with a spoon and grody to the max.

I fling open the door.

Roxy gathers her cigarettes and lighter, and drops them in- side her purse with a snap.

“Goddammit, Elle,” she mutters to herself, eyes flickering toward the kids again. Roxy looks at me over the rims of her sunglasses before shoving them back on her nose. “Mayhem, I’m counting on you to keep your head together here. Those kids are not the usual—”

“I know! You told me they’re foster kids.” 

“No, not that,” she says, but doesn’t clarify. “Okay, I guess.”

“I mean it. No more of that wild-child business.”

“I will keep my head together!” I’m so tired of her saying this. I never had any friends, never a boyfriend—all I have is what Grandmother calls my nasty mouth and the hair Lyle always said was ugly and whorish. And once or twice I might’ve got drunk on the roof, but it’s not like I ever did anything. Besides, no kid my age has ever liked me even once. I’m not the wild child in the family.

“Well, all right then.” Roxy messes with her hair in the rear- view mirror, then sprays herself with a cloud of Chanel No. 5 and runs her fingers over her gold necklace. It’s of a bird, not unlike the ones making a fuss by the house. She’s had it as long as I can remember, and over time it’s been worn smooth by her worrying fingers. It’s like she uses it to calm herself when she’s upset about something, and she’s been upset the whole way here, practically. Usually, she’d be good and buzzed by this time of day, but since she’s had to drive some, she’s only nipped from the tiny bottle of wine in her purse a few times and only taken a couple pills since we left Taylor. The with- drawal has turned her into a bit of a she-demon.

I try to look through her eyes, to see what she sees. Roxy hasn’t been back here since I was three years old, and in that time, her mother has died, her father has died, and like she said when she got the card with the picture enclosed that her twin sister, Elle, sent last Christmas, Everybody got old. After that, she spent a lot of time staring in the mirror, pinching at her neck skin. When I was younger, she passed long nights telling me about Santa Maria and the Brayburn Farm, about how it was good and evil in equal measure, about how it had desires that had to be satisfied.

Brayburns, she would say. In my town, we were the legends. 

These were the mumbled stories of my childhood, and they made everything about this place loom large. Now that we’re here, I realize I expected the house to have a gaping maw filled with spitty, frothy teeth, as much as I figured there would be fairies flitting around with wands granting wishes. I don’t want to take her vision away from her, but this place looks pretty normal to me, if run-down compared to our new house in Taylor, where there’s no dust anywhere, ever, and Lyle prac- tically keeps the cans of soup in alphabetical order. Maybe what’s not so normal is that this place was built by Brayburns, and here Brayburns matter. I know because the whole road is named after us and because flowers and ribbons and baskets of fruit sat at the entrance, gifts from the people in town, Roxy said. They leave offerings. She said it like it’s normal to be treated like some kind of low-rent goddess.

Other than the van and the kids, there are trees here, rose- bushes, an old black Mercedes, and some bikes leaning against the porch that’s attached to the house. It’s splashed with fresh white paint that doesn’t quite cover up its wrinkles and scars. It’s three stories, so it cuts the sunset when I look up, and plants drape down to touch the dirt.

The front door swings open and a woman in bare feet races past the rosebushes toward us. It is those feet and the reckless way they pound against the earth that tells me this is my aunt Elle before her face does. My stomach gallops and there are bumps all over my arms, and I am more awake than I’ve been since.

I thought Roxy might do a lot of things when she saw her twin sister. Like she might get super quiet or chain-smoke, or maybe even get biting like she can when she’s feeling wrong about something. The last thing I would have ever imagined was them running toward each other and colliding in the driveway, Roxy wrapping her legs around Elle’s waist, and them twirling like that. 

This seems like something I shouldn’t be seeing, some- thing wounded and private that fills up my throat. I flip my- self around in my seat and start picking through the things we brought and chide myself yet again for the miserable packing job I did. Since I was basically out of my mind trying to get out of the house, I took a whole package of toothbrushes, an armful of books, my River Phoenix poster, plus I emptied out my underwear drawer, but totally forgot to pack any shoes, so all I have are some flip-flops I bought at the truck stop outside of Las Cruces after that man came to the window, slurring, You got nice legs. Tap, tap tap. You got such nice legs.

My flip-flops are covered in Cheeto dust from a bag that got upended. I slip them on anyway, watching Roxy take her sunglasses off and prop them on her head.

“Son of a bitch!” my aunt says, her voice tinny as she catches sight of Roxy’s eye. “Oh my God, that’s really bad, Rox. You made it sound like nothing. That’s not nothing.”

“Ellie,” Roxy says, trying to put laughter in her voice. “I’m here now. We’re here now.”

There’s a pause.

“You look the same,” Elle says. “Except the hair. You went full Marilyn Monroe.”

“What about you?” Roxy says, fussing at her platinum waves with her palm. “You go full granola warrior? When’s the last time you ate a burger?”

“You know I don’t do that. It’s no good for us. Definitely no good for the poor cows.”

“It’s fine for me.” Roxy lifts Elle’s arm and puckers her nose. “What’s going on with your armpits? May not eat meat but you got animals under there, looks like.”

“Shaving is subjugation.”

“Shaving is a mercy for all mankind.” 

They erupt into laughter and hug each other again.

“Well, where is she, my little baby niece?” Elle swings the car door open. “Oh, Mayhem.” She scoops me out with two strong arms. Right then I realize just how truly tired I am. She seems to know, squeezes extra hard for a second before letting me go. She smells like the sandalwood soap Roxy buys sometimes. “My baby girl,” Elle says, “you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you. How much I’ve missed you.”

Roxy circles her ear with a finger where Elle can’t see her.

Crazy, she mouths. I almost giggle.

[cruecifymesixx]

Love and Leather /part forty one/

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Ya’ll the amount of love i got for the last chapter was fucking incredible! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Here’s your birthday present, @zoenicoles! Enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Warnings: Nikki coming back from the dead, language, drugs, some cute nikki and vanity flashbacks

Taglist:  @brideofdraculana , @aryssav , @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol , @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies, @anntheboneless, @tiranni, @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @are-we-real, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland, @baiabouk @awesomealmostdopestudent, @martabastic, @romanticvengeance , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @rockersbox, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy,  @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @swoopygorl, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch, @waywardprincess666, @malibubarbievince, @iluvmesomemarvelndc, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer@electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe, @nassauartist @emmaelizabeth2014, @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120@xrosegoldwolfx, @cranberribread. @fandomshit6000, @beachystars, @xstarryeyes, @lauravic, @mgkobsessed, @dillightfulpickle, @marvelismylifffe

December 23rd, 1987

I sat at the diner, waiting for someone else to come in. I had two hours left on my shift, and so far everything has been a complete shit show today.

I sat on the barstool with my legs crossed as my eyes gazed over to a teenage couple. The girl was wearing this flowy light pink dress, her hair was done up in a bun and had flowers poking out of the sides. She looked like a ballerina. Her boyfriend, he was wearing all black. Black combat boots, black jeans, black under shirt, black leather jacket. His hair was messy and he had a bulky skull ring on his finger. They were sharing a chocolate peanut butter milkshake together as they held hands. They reminded me of Nikki and myself.

I sighed as I turned around to face Lucia who was pouring salt and pepper into their respective shakers.

“I’m ready to go home.” I pouted as I rested my head in the palm of my hand.

“Why?so you can stuff your face with ice cream and cry yourself to sleep?” She outed me as I scoffed.

“Um, I traded ice cream for frosted animal cookies like a week ago, and I haven’t cried in a couple of nights, thank you very much.” I rolled my eyes as I watched her.

“You going home for Christmas?” She questioned as I shook my head, “No, mom took Greyson and Sage on a cruise until after New Years. So I’ll be by myself.” She looked at me with sad eyes.

“Stop, it’s fine. It’s all good.” I shrugged as I turned around when the bell rang over the door.

A group of drunk guys, awesome.

“Hey guys, welcome to-“ “Can we just skip straight do dessert?” The tall blonde asked, grabbing me by arm and pulling me to him. I was quick to shove away from him.

“Behave, all of you or get the hell out.” I spat at them. They laughed at their blonde friend before pulling him into the booth.

I took their orders and was walking to the kitchen, when another waiter, Jenny walked out. She had a tray full of food and bumped into me. The hot chili cheese fries going all over my apron.

I closed my eyes and exhaled, “I’m so sorry Vanity, I...I didn’t mean too, I’m so sorry.” She was repetitive, I think it was cause she was still new

“It’s fine, just clean it up and tell the customers it’s gonna be another Ten minutes.” I ordered as she was quick to do what I said.

I sighed as I pulled the apron off of me, throwing it into the dirty bin as I grabbed another one, “Here’s my orders Rubio.” I said, handing him the meal ticket.

I walked back out, seeing that Jenny was having a difficult time with her guests. I groaned as I walked over.

“Hi, what seems to be the problem?” I asked, “How long does it really take to get me my damn chili cheese fries? It’s not that damn hard to make!” He snapped at me.

“Sir, we apologize. But we make the freshest of fries. May I offer you a complementary beer?” I asked, motioning to the empty mug.

“I...I uh, yes I would like another one. Thank you.” I smiled at him as I handed the mug to her.

“Always, always offer them free beer. It calms them down.” I reassured Jenny.

“I’m going to take a smoke break.” I told Lucia as she nodded.

I grabbed my jacket and stepped outside. It was a bit chilly. I looked at the busy street of the sunset strip.

My mind drifted to Nikki, as it usually does the past month. He won’t talk to me. None of the guys will, not even T-bone. I tried calling Doc, but he tells me to let it go. I can’t just let it go. I need to tell him I-

“Vanity! Foods ready! And Nikki’s on the TV! Hurry!” Lucia yelled, frantically motioning for me.

“Nikki’s always on the TV.” I said as I grabbed the tray of food, she held the door open for me. “No! Look!” She said as she pointed up to the tv that was in the corner, we always kept it on MTV when Francisco wasn’t working.

We’ve received unconfirmed reports that Mötley Crüe bassist Nikki Sixx has died of an apparent drug overdose.

The tray of food slipped from my fingertips, Lucia was in my face talking but I couldn’t hear her. It was like everything turned off and the world stopped. I stared at the TV, seeing a video of him playing the bass.

“I...I have to go.” I stuttered, blinking away tears. I felt my heart beating in my ears.

“Okay, Van....lets just sit down, okay? Let’s take a bre-“ “Nikki’s dead?” I asked her, she looked at the TV as it wouldn’t stop playing.

“Maybe...maybe it’s just a joke and he’s-“ “That’s such a fucked up joke!” I yelled out but she hushed me.

“Come.” She said grabbing my hand and pulling me out the back door. The moment we stepped outside I kicked over a trash can.

“He can’t be fucking dead!! He-he can’t just leave me like that!! I...I have to go...I need to go find him.” I cried out, trying to walk back inside but the door wasn’t opening

“Why isn’t this god damn door opening!!” I sobbed, tears running down my face as I kept trying to open it. Lucia came over, looking at me with sad eyes again as she used her key to unlock it.

I took off my apron and my work shirt, as I had a undershirt on. I pulled on my jacket and grabbed my keys and purse, “I have to go! Just take care of everything!” I shouted at her, before running out the door and to my car.

I sat in my car, trying to calm myself down before I started driving. Nikki isn’t dead. He can’t be dead. He’s done so much god damn drugs he has to be immune to them by now. Right?

I became pissed off as I started slamming my hand against the steering wheel, “God damnit!” I cried in frustration. I rested my forehead against the steering wheel as I tried to control my breathing. I took a few seconds and then started the car and smoking cigarette after cigarette until I became lightheaded.

I turned on the radio to help keep me sane as the silence was killing me. But every Rock station was saying the same thing, Nikki Sixx was dead.

“Shut up!!” I screamed at the radio before changing the station once again. I started balling my eyes out when I heard Def Leppard’s “Love Bites”.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” I sobbed, wiping my eyes with my shirt. He can’t be fucking gone! He can’t do this to me!

I pulled up to his house in Van Nuys, punching in the code to the security box. I waited until the gates were open and then drove up. I quickly turned off the car, jogging over to his front door and walking inside.

“Nikki!!” I yelled out for him, turning on the lights of his living room.

“Nikki! Are you here!” I yelled again, taking the stairs two at a time until I was walking down the hallway to his room, I pushed open the door. His bed was made for once, the leather jacket he always wears was laying on top.

I looked over to the closed doors of his closet. I shook my head, feeling my bottom lip tremble as I walked over to it. I opened the doors but he wasn’t in there. In his place were needles galore and enough alcohol bottles to make an alcoholic throw up.

I closed the doors before leaning against them, maybe he’s just out with the guys- the guys!!!! I need to get ahold of them!

I rushed downstairs to his kitchen, going over to the landline before picking it up and trying to call Tommy first. I waited patiently but there was no answer. I groaned as i hung up the phone

One by one, I had called Mick, Vince, Doc, And Tom. I even went ahead and called Motley’s body guard and their publicist. Not a single soul answered their phones. I put my head in my hands, leaning against the counter as I cried.

I forced myself away from the counter, dragging my feet up to his room. I felt as all time had stopped around me. Nothing felt real anymore. I opened the door to his bedroom, walking over to his bed before crawling into the middle of it. His black satin sheets smelt like his cologne, I clutched the pillow he sleeps on when we share the bed together.

*Flashback*

September ‘82

“Nikki?” My words were slurred as I tried keeping my focus on him. Ever since I came back from visiting my parents, I have a new found friendship with Mötley Crüe. They were pretty cool guys, except they always found a way to get me extremely fucked up, and tonight’s party at Nikki’s house was no exception.

“Yes, doll?” Nikki said, putting his hands on my waist to help keep my balance, “You good?” He asked, a look of concern written across his face.

“I don’t want you to think I’m lame, but I need to lay down.” I giggled as I gripped his shoulders. He smiled at me, before taking my hand and leading me up the stairs.

“Watch your step.” He told me, as I kept looking down at the stairs so I wouldn’t trip. He led me to a room and when he opened the door it was his bedroom.

I let go of his hand as I looked around his room. The furniture was a dark mahogany, the curtains were black and his bed sheets and comforter were blood red, “Do you want to wear the dress or one of my shirts?” He asked, digging through his closet.

“Can I have a shirt? This dress is suffocating me.” I said as I kicked of my heels and sat on his bed. I took a deep breath in and exhaled, god the room was fucking spinning.

He let out a laugh as he handed me the shirt, “uh...can you turn around?” I asked him, he nodded and faced the other way.

“I can tell T-bone to lay off the zombie dust and the blow if you want?” He asked as I started taking the dress off.

“Zombie dust yes, blow...no.” I said as I shimmied the dress down my legs before kicking it at him as I saw him try to turn his head.

“Hey! No peeking!” I shouted, stumbling onto his bed as I lost my balance.

He laughed, “I’ll see you naked one day, I’m not too worried.”

I put the shirt on, seeing that it was an old T-Rex shirt. I smiled, he always wore this one.

“And what makes you so sure about that?” I asked, trying to walk over to him. He turned around and faced me.

He shrugged, “I just know I will.” He smirked down at me, I hate that smirk of his. It’s so damn cocky.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Sixx. It’s never gonna happen.” I said, toying with the necklaces that laid against his bare chest that was poking out from underneath the half buttoned shirt.

My gaze met his glazed over eyes, he moved the curls out from my face. His hand rested against the side of my cheek as he lowered his head down, I tried taking a step back from him but he snaked his arm around my waist and wouldn’t let me go. He pulled me closer to him, my chest hitting his torso. I felt my heart race as he licked his lips. I couldn’t take my eyes away from his lips.

“Let’s get you in bed.” He whispered, he smiled before letting me go. I nodded quickly as he walked me over to the bed, pulling the blankets down so I could get in before he threw them on me.

I pulled them up to my chin as I watched him get undressed. I stopped watching, pulling the blankets over my head when I saw him undo his belt buckle. A few moments later, I felt the bed shift as he got in beside me.

“What are you doing?” I asked, peeking my head out and looking at him. He was on his back as he tilted his head over to look at me, “I’m going to bed, what does it look like?”

I furrowed my eyebrows, “But I’m sleeping here, can’t you go somewhere else?” I questioned, my tone coming off as snobby. He let out a laugh as he tucked his hands under his head.

“You’re telling me to get out of my own bed?” He asked, giving me a curious look.

“N-no, I just, You still have guests here...” I trailed off, still hearing the music from downstairs.

“They’ll leave when they’re ready.” He said, turning on his side to face me, as he took most of the blankets away.

“Hey asshole, give me some blankets.” I said, tugging them away from his grip.

“If we laid closer together we wouldn’t be having this issue, Princess.” I scoffed at his remarks.

“As if.” I rolled my eyes, “Stay on your side and don’t touch me.” I warned him as he grinned. I turned on my side and had my back facing him.

“You know, That’s the first time a chick has ever said not to touch her while she’s in my bed.” Nikki explained as I shook my head.

“Shut up.” I said, pulling the blankets up over my head, as an attempt to drown him out.

“How about you make me?” I heard him chuckle. I sat up in bed, “I’d rather sleep outside then in the same bed as you.” I took the blankets off but stopped when he grabbed my wrist.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stop, I’d rather you sleep in my bedroom than the guest room. People know not to come in here.” Nikki said, his grip subsiding as I laid back down.

“Stop looking at me.” I said through closed eyes, as i could feel him hovering over me.

“You won’t let me fuck you and you won’t even let me look at you...What do you want me to do? Just ignore you?”

“Who said I wouldn’t let you fuck me?” I smirked, opening my eyes as he studied my face.

“You just assumed that because I decline your advances and make you work for it.” I smiled in his face, gently patting his cheek as he exhaled deeply.

“Well, it’s annoying. You’re annoying.” He grumbled, plopping back down on his side of the bed.

“Once you get to know me, you’ll fall in love with me.” I told Nikki as he laughed.

“Alright drunky, I’ll be waiting for that day. Go to bed.”

*End Flashback*

That was the first night I shared a bed with him, the following morning was the first time out of many attempts to get into my pants. God damnit, Nikki. I sobbed into the pillow. How could he just be dead? I needed more time....I needed more time with him.

*next morning, Nikki’s POV*

I stumbled up the driveway, turning around to wave goodbye to the girls that had picked me up at the hospital. Did I really fucking die? Did I really shoot up that much heroin to cause my heart to stop beating and my body to shut down on itself?

I groaned as I bent over, grabbing the spare key from underneath the flower pot. My whole body felt like it was on fire my joints kept locking up on me. I walked over to the door, swinging it open as it unlocked. I leaned into the door, resting against it as I looked around the house. It was deathly quiet and it was rather cold in here, I should open up some windows.

My eyes darted over to the kitchen, my throat was dry and hurting. I needed some water, and then to pass out for a while.

I dragged my feet, feeling as if weights were attached to me. I hated feeling like this, but I did it all to myself. I gripped the kitchen counter, grabbing a cup before filling it up. I couldn’t control the trembling of my hand as the glass met my lips, I didn’t even care that half of the water was dribbling down my chin and onto my bare chest.

I put the glass down, gripping the counters as I stared down into the sink. I closed my eyes as I tried to collect my thoughts.

“Fuck.” I muttered to myself, shaking my head as I stood up straight and looked out the window to my back yard. I turned around when I heard a light gasp. Oh, Vanity. I am so fucking relieved to see you.

She stood across from me with puffy blood shot eyes. Tears were falling down her face as she covered her mouth with her hand, sobbing into it. My eyes widened at the pain written all over her face. Did she know what happened?

“Wh-what are you doing here?” I winced at how horrible my voice sounded, it was like going through puberty all over again.

“Nikki…” She croaked, taking hesitantly slow steps towards me. She reached for me, placing her hand on the side my face. I closed my eyes, feeling as if I was melting into her touch.

“You’re here…you’re alive….but, but all the radio stations and MTV…” She trailed off, getting choked up by more crying.

“Of course I am…the devil didn’t want to give up his throne just yet.” I muttered, breaking into a small smile, but she just stared at me and rolled her eyes as she wiped her face.

“Nikki! This isn’t a time to be fucking funny! I thought you were dead!!! The whole world thought you were dead!!” She weeped, choking on her own breath.

I was concerned, how long had she been here for? I wasn’t at the hospital long…I don’t think.

I had no time to react as Vanity hugged me, squeezing me tight, “Ow.” I moaned, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. I breathed in the scent of perfume.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.” I whispered into the top of her head as she continued to cry on me, feeling her hot tears drop onto my bare chest.

“What….What is that?” She trembled, pulling away as she brushed her finger over the giant dark purple bruise that was on top of where my heart lays.

I rubbed my eyes as I looked down at the bruise and her red nail that didn’t move away from it, “Adrenaline shots, it took two of them to get me back. Apparently the guy was a fan.”

My gaze met hers as she stared at me through teary eyes, “Nikki, I love you.”

I dry swallowed the lump in my throat as I stared at her, I couldn’t muster up any words to say. By the look and tears on her face, plus the glimmer of nervousness written all over, I could tell she was serious.

She stuttered, “I…I’m…I’m in love with you. And I am so sorry you had to die to make me realize it.”

She ran her fingers through her hair, “I spent the whole night crying. I…I came here after work hoping that it was a sick cruel joke but you weren’t here and the house was cold, and, and nobody would answer my calls, I know I fucked up and I’ve missed you so fucking much and I am-“

I swiftly kissed her, tasting the saltiness of her tears on our lips. I pulled away and rested my forehead on hers, “I love you too.” I pecked her lips once more, “So damn much.”

“Don’t ever leave me again. I don’t want to be without you…ever.” She warned as I nodded.

“I’m done with drugs. I’m done with letting everyone down and I’m done with being unhappy.” I told her, rubbing the back of my neck.

“I’m so sorry for everything with Slash. I don’t know why I was being like that…I should’ve just listened to you.” She looked down at the floor like a scolded child, “I should’ve never slept with him.” She added on, finally looking up at me.

“It’s fine.” I quickly brushed it off, I didn’t want to think of it ever again.

“He was with me, at the hotel when I Uh…” I started saying, but I was feeling as my skin was crawling. He was fucked up too, Stevens girlfriend had to get him in the shower to wake him up.

“I figured as much, he told me you showed it to him. Why would you do that? Just so he can ruin his life and body too?” I rolled my eyes as I leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Vanity god damn it….everything hurts right now okay? I feel like everything inside my body is burning. I don’t want to argue. Just-just can you please get me something? I’m starving.” I expressed. She looked at me, I couldn’t even begin to imagine the last time I ate, let alone took a shower

She nodded, “I have to go to the store then, you have no food….just stay here, shower and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She said as she, grabbed her keys and jacket from the couch. She put my hand on his chest, “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” She repeated herself, I nodded as I watched her walk out the front door.

I stayed downstairs to hear her leave. When she drove out the security gates, I slowly walked up the stairs. Y’know, fuck the drugs. I don’t need them I can get clean. I can do the whole sober thing. I can do it, I want to do it.

I walked up to my bedroom, glancing in the mirror of the bathroom. God I looked fucking horrible, I looked like a zombie. I closed my eyes, shaking my head. I need to call everyone, she’s the only one that knows I’m not dead.

I sat in front of my telephone and recorded a new voicemail, “Hey…it’s me Nikki, I can’t come to the phone right now…because I’m dead.”

I cursed at myself as I stood up straight, eyes meeting the only place in the world I felt safe in, with my guns and drugs by my side.

I closed the doors behind me, sitting down on the floor as I melted junk on a spoon, over and over and over again. Until I felt nothing. I still didn’t feel nothing, I felt dizzy and numb. Fuck! I wish I can stop this self destruction, it’s not fucking fun anymore!

I stood up, wobbling around as I looked into the already cracked mirror, laughing at myself. My laughter soon turned to tears of pain, before a rush of anger went through me. I glared at myself before punching the mirror again, finally shattering it into a pieces. I grimaced as my knuckles were busted up.

I stumbled onto the floor, eyes half shut as I laid down. Maybe this way would be better. Maybe dying with my drugs and Tom’s guns and my rockstar clothes by my side. What a perfect way to be found.

*Vanity’s POV*

After a short while later, and an unexpected trip to work since Francisco had left me in charge over the holidays, I was back at Nikki’s.

“Nikki! I’m back! I tried calling and you need to change that god awful voicemail. That’s not even remotely funny!” I yelled out, putting the paper bags full of groceries on the counter. Hm, he must be in the shower.

“Nikki?” I called out as I walked up the stairs and too his bedroom. I didn’t hear water running, but I saw the doors to his drug haven were half open.

I exhaled, putting my hand on my stomach as I was becoming nauseous. I stared at the doors before walking over to them. Please don’t be in there. Please don’t be in there.

I pushed the doors open, to find him laying on the floor. A needle was still in his arm as blood was prickling down it.

“Oh, you son of a bitch. Wake up!” I yelled, lightly kicking his foot. I stared at him waiting for him to move but he didn’t. I furrowed my eyebrows as I dropped down to my knees in front of him.

“Nikki? Wake up.” I said as I patted his cheek and shook his shoulder. He finally groaned and a huge sigh of relief rushed over me.

He looked down at his arm, seeing a bent needle and blood dripping down as it puddled in his hand. I saw his eyes begin to water up, probably realizing he was still alive and he wasn’t going to to die so easily as the first time.

I stared at him. He needed the help, and I know he wants it. Heroin had him choking and injecting only made breathing a little easier. Now it was ruining him. Killing him. This use to be tolerable for everyone involved, including me. This whole time he was probably screaming for help and nobody listened to him. I didn’t listen to him.

He looked up at me, seeing that I was just as scared as he was. The tears in his eyes trickled out as he let out a sob, “Fuck!”

I cupped his jaw, his tears falling onto my hands, “Nikki, you need to go to rehab and you need to stay there for a while. Your addiction is too much for you to handle on your own. You have to go.”

“Ple-please don’t leave me.” He choked out, as he grabbed my hands. He cursed. “Shit blood, fuck, I’m sorry.” He moved his hands away from me, “I…I hit a mirror.” I turned my cheek and saw broken glass everywhere.

I looked down at my hands, feeling nauseous as I felt the warmth of his blood and the metallic scent hitting my nose, “Sixx, I was only gone for an hour and a half.” I mumbled as I wiped my hands on the shirt I was wearing.

My eyes wandered to the track marks that ran all across his body, I could only imagine the ones out of view, “I need help, Vanity. I can’t do this anymore…I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want this…” he cried as he grabbed the bent needle that was stuck in his arm, tearing it out of his skin before he threw it away from us.

“This…this shit is going to kill me..” he sighed as he laid back down, but rested his head on my lap. I ran my hands over his hair, trying to smooth it out. He sniffled a few times as I felt his tears soak into my jeans.

“This shit already killed you, Nikki. I told you to fucking stop months ago. You need serious help. You need a drug counselor, you need a therapist, you need all of it.” I expressed my dismay as I leaned over and kissed the side of his temple.

“Not just you, but the whole band needs to go. You all need help, Tommy is gonna be next if he continues.” I wiped my eyes, thinking about loosing any of them. Even Malibu Barbie, Vince.

“I-I know they’ll do it…Tommy will, if I go he will go too…” He trembled, “I’m sorry Van….I’m so sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry. I know you’re sorry, I know what I was getting myself into. I knew what I was signing up for from the moment this started, Nikki.”

He continued to rest his head against my legs, I noticed his eyes were having a hard time staying open, “I’ll call Doc…and we’ll have a group meeting and find a rehab. Please stay here…please. I need to throw all of it away.”

I looked around at all the drugs and paraphernalia that littered his closet, “You need to show me every spot in this house where you hid the drugs and I’ll get them out.”

“I love you, I love you so much.” He mumbled into my skin before weakly standing up. He walked over to a box and opened it up. I quickly closed it and took it from him. It took us over an hour to show where he hid everything. He hid it in his closet obviously, behind the headboard of his bed. The bathroom, taped in a plastic bag in the toilet. He had used rigs tucked away underneath the couch cushions in the living room. He told me he would buy in bulk, so he kept most of the drugs in the freezer so they would stay potent. I followed him around the mansion for over an hour with a trash bag.

When we were done, I took the trash bag to the can outside and then took the can to the curb outside his gate.

I walked back into the kitchen and immediately washed my hands, scrubbing away his dried blood as well as sticky heroin residue. When I was finished I rested my head in my hands, leaning against the sink as i took a moment to collect my thoughts.

Nikki cleared his throat, I turned around to look at him, “I’m… I’m gonna take a shower…” he said quietly as he looked at the floor, “Did you get food? I am really hungry. I haven’t ate in three days.”

I nodded, “Um yeah…I can make chicken Alfredo…it’s um-“ I stopped and laughed at myself, “It’s the only thing I know how to cook…” I trailed off as I saw his lips pull into a small smile.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” He reassured me as I grabbed a pan and put it on the stove.

I felt his eyes following me as I searched for things around the kitchen, “Thought you were going to shower?” I questioned as he nodded.

“Yeah I am…just, thank you.” He said, trying to come near me but I stopped him by putting my hand on his chest, “Van, I’m sorry.” He pleaded with me, taking my hand off his torso and placing a gentle kiss as he smiled at me.

“Go shower, Nikki.” I said, taking my hand away from him. He soon left and went upstairs.

*an hour later*

I finished cooking as I scraped the bottom of the pan. I mean, can you really blame me? I never really learned to cook as Loretta always cooked every meal when I was younger and Tonya cooks for us back at the house.

But it tasted okay at least. It wouldn’t be served at a five star restaurant that’s for sure.

“Your phone won’t stop ringing.” I spoke to Nikki as he walked in and sat at the table, pushing bottles of alcohol to the side to make room for us.

“Yeah, well they can wait.” He said before stuffing his face with the food. I was waiting for him to react badly to it but he didn’t.

“This..is really fucking good. I didn’t know you can cook.” He said, mouth full of food. He was probably saying that to spare my feelings, and probably cause he hasn’t ate in a couple of days.

I laughed as I sat down next to him, “I don’t know how to cook. But I can make this, Mac and cheese, a grilled cheese sandwich, scrambled eggs, and a nice bowl of cereal.” I explained, as I poked the food around the plate.

He laughed as he wiped his face, “No, really this is good. Thanks for going to get groceries. I’ve been meaning to do it..” he trailed off, continuing to shovel food into his mouth.

“You should call doc, maybe the band…let them know you’re alive.” I suggested as he looked at me.

“I am, I will. But later.” He said as I shook my head, “After you finish, I mean it Nikki.” I ordered as he nodded and continued eating.

After we were both done, he went into the living room to make some calls as I stayed behind and tried to clean up his disgusting kitchen. It was like the counters have never been wiped down. I wiped my hands on a dish towel as I threw the remaining empty bottles away.

I heard yelling coming from the other room, he didn’t sound happy.

I heard him slam the phone down, then a bottle shattering, his foot steps found their way to me.

“Everything good, rockstar?” I asked, hopping up on the counter and taking a sip of my glass of wine.

“Everything is not all good.” He said, coming over to me and taking my glass before chugging it. He handed it back to me as I stared into the empty glass.

“They want us to leave for rehab already, starting tomorrow. I…I that’s too soon…i…can’t go.” He said, as he searched in a cookie jar and brought out a baggie of white powder. And I don’t think it was flour.

“Nik….just, you need to go to rehab.” I said, hopping off the counter, “I thought we got it all out…” I said quietly as I watched him dump some on the kitchen bar.

“You said heroin, not blow, it’s fine.” He smirked, as he cut a few lines, “If I have to go to rehab tomorrow, then I’m going out with a bang.” I scoffed at his words.

I grabbed a cup of water and dumped it across the counter, “Van! What the fuck!!” He yelled, trying to get the dry bits away from the water. While he was distracted, I snatched the rest of the baggie away from him.

“No! Give it back to me! Now!” He shouted, reaching out for it but I kept it behind my back, “No! You’re done! You get high on blow and then you’ll go looking for junk!! I know your routine, Nikki! And I’m not fucking doing it! You are going to rehab tomorrow!” I argued back.

“Oh fuck off! Give me my fucking drugs, now!!” I shook my head , “They can’t take me to rehab if I’m not here!” He yelled, grabbing the keys to his car.

“Baby, please don’t do this.” My voice was soft as he started walking to the front door, “You need to go to rehab and you need to get better.” I spoke as he threw the keys down on the couch.

“And what if I can’t!? What If I’m just gonna be a junkie for the rest of my life? I don’t know how to do this without heroin, it’s been with me for so long now….since fucking Razzle.” Nikki opened up as he sat down on the couch.

“You’ll get better, you’ll learn to live without it as much as you might hate it at first…” I explained to him, as I sat down on the couch with him.

“What if I can’t live without it, Van…I’ve only ever gone two weeks without it.” I sighed, running my fingers through his hair as he leaned back into the couch.

“I’m dying to see what a life with sober Nikki would be like.” I teased him as he tilted his head to look at me, “Are you now?” He asked, a loose smile appearing.

“You’ll stay by my side when I’m going through this?” He questioned, “Of course, babe. I’ll always have your back.” He nodded as he kissed the side of my cheek.

“I love you.” His eyes were big as he stared at me. His deep honey eyes were a lighter shade, usually they’re dark, cold and uninviting. They were warm; full of love and hope. I ran my hand across his jaw, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.”

[saleintothe90s]

399. The “Cats” round up

This week was Halloween, and this year I went as Jemima from Cats. Why did I decide on this costume? Well, seeing the trailer (and H3H3′s reaction to it) for the scary 2019 movie with those basic b’s Taylor and James made me want to see the original Cats, the good Cats. 

You can watch most of the direct to VHS 1998 edition on YouTube in parts. So far, its the only musical that doesn’t bore me to tears, even if the scenes where they perform a play for Old Deuteronomy makes no sense. 

You know what Cats sorta reminds me of, that old PBS show Zoobilee Zoo, especially Victoria the white cat, she reminds me of the pink kangaroo lady. 

Cats came to New York City in October of 1982 after beginning a successful run in London. It was announced at the end of 1981 that the musical would be coming to New York:

Anticipation was so great that copies of T.S. Eliot’s original work was selling out: 

(I’m mad I can’t find this commercial)

Tickets for the show were sold months in advance, with many bulk orders: 

More than six months before opening night, the Fresh Air Fund had already bought 500 seats. The Arthritis Foundation purchased 300 tickets, the Archives of American Art bought 300, and the American Red Cross bought 500 seats. Then there was the Burden Center for Aging with 300, University Settlement with 200 and the Social Service Big Sister League with 500 seats. Those are just a handful among many, but by the time ''Cats'' opened on Broadway last week such orders added up to $6.2 million in advance ticket sales. Of that sum, $4.5 million had already been collected, with only $1.7 million in contracts still to be paid in full. This could be the largest advance sale in Broadway history, according to many theater analysts. Orders began to come in more than a year before ''Cats'' - a big hit in London - finally arrived in New York, and tickets are now being sold as far in advance as next May. 2

The musical debut was also supposed to be a cover story in Newsweek, but the Tylenol murders prevailed. 2 

Someone defaced the copy at archive.org. 

I somehow found the cover though. I wonder if this was for Canada? There are people on sketchy websites selling this as a print? The library bound Newsweek from archive.org has the Tylenol cover. I believe the woman on the bottom row, right is Janet Hubert, who played Aunt Viv the first on Fresh Prince. In Cats, she played Tantomile in the first Broadway cast. 

(I made screencaps of the Newsweek article and uploaded the screencaps to the mirror site on wordpress)

As you may have noticed these Cats from the early 80s are kind of scary looking. There are several videos on YouTube of the cast performing at the 1983 Tony Awards, and there is this cat that is absolutely terrifying: 

It’s the one who sings “can you see in the dark?!”.  I think its Demeter, and Marlene Danielle is playing her? Marlene was an originally an understudy in 1982 and eventually played Bombularina until the end of Cats’ run on Broadway in 2000. 

Here she is on Today in 1999 discussing the role and she also performs “Macavity”.

The cats of Cats became so popular in the 1980s that they were even in a No Smoking commercial. 

And a seat buckle/child seat PSA! This one is really dark, I mean Memory plays at the end. 

In 1984, Rum Tum Tugger became the star of his own music video. 3 I don’t know how often MTV played this--maybe it played more overseas. I remember my choir teacher in high school, Ms. Forrest showing us a VHS once of music videos from Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musicals, and she said that they were popular in the UK and shown on MTV over there. All I remember is a Phantom of the Opera remix and Requiem sung by his ex-wife. 

By 1987, Celine Dion (who was still a music star in Canada, but not yet America, and sung mostly in French) sang Memory on TV. 

In this clip from the short lived America’s Talking channel (later to become MSNBC) a reporter asks the cats what they did on their snow day during the 1996 blizzard. I can’t confirm this, but he says that it was the first time the show had ever been canceled. This reporter is peak 1996 in mens clothes with his bomber jacket and tie. 

By June of 1997, Cats broke the record previously held by A Chorus Line of longest running show on Broadway:

Along the way to its longevity record, which applies just to Broadway shows, ''Cats'' has piled up some big numbers. It has provided employment to 231 actors, two of whom, Marlene Danielle and Susan Powers, have been with the musical since it opened. (Nineteen cast members have died.) The magical tire that carries Grizabella heavenward has clocked more than 114 miles in its nightly voyage to the Heaviside Layer. ''Memory,'' the show-stopping song that ends the first act, has been recorded by more than 180 artists. The New York production has used more than 1.5 million pounds of dry ice and 2,706 pounds of yak hair for wigs. It has sold 390,000 T-shirts, 130,000 sweat shirts, 147,000 lapel pins and 1.14 million souvenir books. 1

Also, in 1997 an audience member because she thought Rum Tum Tugger was too aggressive with her. 

Related: 

Original review from The New York Times

Reading Rainbow segment on Cats

Another Reading Rainbow segment on Cats, similar to the first.

Stars of the Original Cats Share Their Favorite Memories

Los Angeles news segment series on the L.A. Production of Cats. 

Almost every time our boy David Letterman brought up Cats. 

The Cast of CATS (2016) Meets Shelter Cats | Cats the Musical

EVENT CAPSULE CLEAN - Grumpy Cat Visits The Broadway Cast of 'Cats' Facebook | Etsy | Retail History Blog | Twitter | snapchat (thelastvcr) |YouTube Playlist| Random Post | Instagram @ thelastvcr | other tumblr | Ko-fi donation | Honey Referral

1, Grimes, William, “ With 6,138 Lives, 'Cats' Sets Broadway Mark,” New York Times, June 19, 1997. https://www.nytimes.com/1997/06/19/theater/with-6138-lives-cats-sets-broadway-mark.html

2. Bennetts, Leslie, “ HOW TICKETS TO 'CATS' BECAME A 'MUST',” New York Times, October 13, 1982. https://www.nytimes.com/1982/10/13/theater/how-tickets-to-cats-became-a-must.html

3. Kaplan, Peter W., “TV NOTES; BROADWAY FIRST: 'CATS' DOES ROCK VIDEO TURN,” New York Times, November 10, 1984.  https://www.nytimes.com/1984/11/10/theater/tv-notes-broadway-first-cats-does-rock-video-turn.html

[babbushka]

Blue Moon (9/10)

New York, 1987. The air was filled with smog and the streets were ridden with crime. Just another day in paradise. Your quiet life turns upside down when a striking man moves in across from you. You’re falling, fast, into a love that could never, ever, happen…or could it?

(Could be interpreted as modern!au Kylo Ren/Reader for those who don't know who Pale is, but really this is Pale from Burn This!)

Word count: 6.8k

Warnings: N*FW Content, language, fluff (finally lol)

-------------------

He woke up with the worst fucking headache he had ever had. Well, maybe not, but at least it was the worst headache he could remember. Where the fuck was he?

“You’re at my apartment.” You had explained, your voice warm and soft like it always was when you were talking to him. There was the smallest wobble in it, like you were trying not to cry. “We’re on the floor.”

A fragment of a memory returned to him and explained just a little – why the fuck was he on the floor?

Oh, right.

He propped himself up onto his elbows, looked around, tried to get his bearings. You were sleeping next to him, right on the fucking concrete with him. He frowned, sat up all proper.

He remembered making it to the couch before blacking out, remembered your hands on him right as he went. He looked down at himself, he was wearing none of his clothes from the night before. He was in soft sweats and a tank top, where was his jacket? He looked around – you had hung it up on the coat hook by the door.

You had also shoved pillows under his head and threw a blanket over the both of you, some sort of attempt at comfort.

He swallowed the hard lump in his throat from thinking about how you had stayed with him right there, right on the fucking floor with him, instead of retreating to your own comfortable bed. He liked that you stayed. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. After all this time, he figured maybe he’d have gotten a fuckin’ grip by now, but one look at you and all hope of that had flown right out the damn window.

He watched you for a bit, watched how your breathing made your chest rise and fall. He was in so deep, too deep with you. He knew that. Somehow, it didn’t scare the shit out of him.

Maybe it did, but he was too numb to feel it this time.

“I’m not afraid of you.” You had said.

It was still dark outside, not anywhere near close to sunrise.

He could go back to sleep, but his stomach rumbled too loud for him to even bother.

He stayed still, kept watching you. Fuck it wasn’t fair to wake you up, he knew that. You probably hadn’t gotten any real fuckin’ sleep as it was, watching over him and taking care of him. His chest did a little hiccup at that, the thought of you taking care of him. Nobody’d ever really done that before.

His stomach growled again and he groaned, starving but not wanting to be away from you, not for even one fuckin’ second.

“Hey.” He whispered, shook you awake a little. “(Y/N), wake up.”

“Hmm?” You asked, face pinching in a frown, your eyes still closed. Even with your brow furrowed like this you looked like a god damned angel. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but he put his hand on your cheek and shook a little more.

“I’m fuckin’ starving over here, come with me to grab a bite to eat.” He licked his lips, kissing your face. He hoped the kisses would sweeten the deal a little.

“Mmmmokay.” You said, blinking awake, nuzzling your nose against his as he pressed little kisses all over. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see my watch.” He kissed and coaxed you up so that you were sitting up on the floor, your naked body shining in the light of the moon, light glinting just a little off the chain around your neck. He didn’t know how to process the fact that you were still wearing it, that you’d always been wearing it.  

It was drizzling outside, Pale vaguely remembered rain from last night. He really couldn’t remember much else. His stomach growled.

“Where do you wanna go?” You asked, drawing the covers over your chest to keep the chill away. Your nipples got hard anyway, Pale leaned forward to press his face into your cleavage, kiss and warm up the skin there.  

“There a Mickey Ds around?” He asked, and you nodded with a smile.

“Yeah like five minutes away. We gonna go through the drive-thru?” You asked, stretched and yawned and let out a big sigh.

“Yeah.” Pale said against your skin. The more he touched you, the less he wanted to go.

“Okay then I’m not putting any shoes on.” You said, giving a sleepy smile. He kissed it right off of you and stood up, the joints in his knees and back cracking from being on such a hard surface for so long.

“Okay.” He said, watching you get up too, watching you walk across the living room to your bedroom.

He watched and waited until you were pulling on a loose t-shirt and some sleep-shorts, the red ones with the little penguins all over them, nothing fancy. You were barefoot true to your word, but Pale thought you were going to freeze to death so when the two of yous walked to the front door, he wrapped his big leather jacket around you, made you stick your arms through the sleeves and bundled you up tight.

You looked ridiculous in the fucking thing, it was maybe three sizes too big, probably stupidly fuckin’ heavy, and completely hid your figure.

He never ever wanted you to take it off.

 “You want anything?” Pale asked when he pulled up to the drive-thru.

It wasn’t glamourous or nothing, but it was the only place he could think of to get shitty, cheap, greasy fast food this late. Or was it early? The clock on his car said it was a little after five in the morning. He knew 24/7 diners existed, but you weren’t even wearing a bra or panties or nothin’, no shoes. No shirt no shoes no service.

“No thanks.” You yawned, wrapped your arms around yourself even though Pale had the heat on in the car while the two of yous waited for the line to move a little bit.

The rain had pretty much stopped, it felt like droplets hung in the air, coating the whole fuckin’ city. The roads were wet, his windshield had lots of little fuckin’ water spots that better not dry splotchy on the black paint of his car. He’d bring it in to get washed later, didn’t want dirty fuckin’ rain staining nothing. The Mickey Ds was just off the main road, and occasionally the red and blue lights of a cop would speed past. Pale wondered what kinda crime assholes could get up to this early.

He couldn’t stop looking at you in that jacket of his. He couldn’t fucking explain it but something about it made him so protective, possessive. He loved your bed head, loved the way the jacket swallowed you whole, like it was some big heavy blanket made of leather and metal zips. He wanted to get you home, fuck you in just that jacket and your chain. It’d smell like sex but to be fuckin’ honest that jacket had smelled like worse in the time he’s had it. Maybe it could do with some of your sweat and come staining the leather.

He inched up until he was finally at the speaker, rolled the window down.

“Welcome to McDonald’s what can I get ya?” Some poor overworked piece of shit asked, none too pleased to be there at five a.m.

“Lemme get two quarter-pounders with cheese and large fry and a large coke.” Pale said automatically, his standard order for times like this.

“That it?” The kid asked, sounding bored.

“Yeah.” Pale replied, equally enthusiastic.

“Drive up.” The kid said, and Pale did…all of two feet.

The line really shouldn’t be this fucking long, Pale thought as he put the car in park. There were at least six people ahead of him, and he couldn’t fucking figure out why – shouldn’t all these assholes be in bed?

“Looks like we ain’t the only people with this idea.” You yawned, still sleepy in the passenger seat.

“Whatever, as long as I get my fuckin’ burgers, you know?” He hummed, leaned over just enough to put a hand on your thigh, give it a good rub. He liked how your skin felt, you were still sleep-warm.

“Mhm.” You nodded, scooching over so that you were as close to him as possible. He wished he had bench seats or something so you could get right up next to him, but his chest hurt at you tryin’.

You laid your head on his shoulder, and fiddled with the volume knob on the cassette player he had built into the dashboard of the car. Classical music softly played in the background as the two of you sat in the line, waiting for a car to get their order so Pale could pull up a bit.

“How do I make you feel?”

“Like I’m dyin’.”

He wished he could remember more. He cursed the fucking alcohol.

Once the two of you were out of the view of the window and just waiting around, Pale ran a hand through your hair, tugged your face over to meet his and kissed you real fuckin’ deep. You hummed happily into his mouth, licked and sucked at his bottom lip.

One of your hands drifted to his crotch, rubbed just a little. He was always so fucking ready for you that you only really had to look at his dick for it to get hard, so he was tensing up just at the slight brush of your fuckin’ fingers. It didn’t help that he was in sweatpants, which did abso-fucking-lutely nothing to hide his boner.

“Suck my dick while we wait?” Pale asked, and you gave an amused little chuckle, tucked your hair behind your ears.

“Okay.” You said, and Pale held his breath as he inched forward again, just a little.

You bent over completely, pushed Pale’s sweatpants down just enough to get his hard cock out, give it a few pumps. Your hands felt so damn good on him, too good. He clenched his jaw, turned the music up on the cassette in case he accidentally let a sound slip out.

Chopin filled the car as you licked a stripe up his cock, ran your tongue in the slit on the head of it, making him groan. He let one hand loosely tangle in the hair at the back of your neck, held you in place as you swirled your tongue around him.

He inched up just a bit more, four fucking cars to go.

You opened your throat and took him down as far as you could go, tongue flat and throat so fucking hot and wet – and then you sucked and he fisted your hair hard, bucked up into your mouth. His head thumped against the headrest, and he tried to even his breathing, other hand gripping the steering wheel.

“Shit honey.” He grit out, letting his eyes close for what felt like an eternity, and he could swear he felt you fuckin’ smile against him.

You bobbed your head up and down, sliding his length in and out of your throat, getting drool and spit everywhere. Fuck, it made him so hard to see you sloppy like that, and he groaned again when you used all of that wetness to slick up your hand, kiss his stomach as you jerked him off.

“Faster,” Pale grunted out, inching up.

Three more cars.

You went faster, the slick sound of your hand on his cock turning him on. He wished he had a cigarette, he was getting all fucking wound up, needed – you knew what he needed apparently, were some kinda mind reader, because your mouth wrapped around him again and you hollowed out your cheeks and took him as deep as you could, until your nose was brushing up against his dark pubic hair and you were choking, choking while giving him head in the fucking fast food drive through.

God what an angel you were.

He gripped your hair and held you down as he came, pumped your throat full of his come, wanted you to feel it slide down, and you did like the good fucking girl you were, he could feel you swallowing against him.

When the two of you pulled up to the second window to get Pale’s food, you were tucked back in your seat and Pale’s cock was back in his sweatpants, and when Pale handed over the cash, the guy at the register was none the wiser.  

 “You know, this is real shit food.” Pale grimaced, taking another bite out of the burger twenty minutes later.

The two of you were sitting out on the fire escape, waiting for the sun to rise. You, now fully awake like Pale, had dragged a couple of towels outside and laid them out so the both of yas wouldn’t have to sit on the cold wet metal scaffold of the fire escape.

You were still wearing his jacket, sipping a cup of coffee you had brewed up real fast, some instant shit, nothing good like what you made at the diner.

“Then why are you eating it?” You laughed, giving him the sweetest damn smile. He hated how much he liked seeing your smile, how much he liked seeing you sleep-rumpled and happy.

He had to wipe that smile off your face, tried kissin’ it away, but that only made the fuckin’ thing bigger. He took another bite of the shitty burger.

“Greasy food’s good for the kinda headache I got.” He shrugged, reaching into the bag and huffing, “Next time I’m gonna get two fuckin’ fries.”

“Sorry.” You smiled as you sipped your coffee, not sorry in the fuckin’ least.

You had eaten half the damn thing of fries on the way back to your apartment, even though he had asked you if you wanted anything and you said no. Learned his fuckin’ lesson with that one he did. Not that he was angry, but shit.  

“Nah, don’t be. I like when you eat up, you make me nervous sometimes.” He said around a big bite.

“I make you nervous?” You laughed, snorting into your coffee enough to make some of it splatter, hitting his bare arm.

“Why’s that so fuckin’ funny?” He asked with a frown as you tried not to laugh too loud, conscious of your neighbors.

“Because you’re the one blacking out in my living room, honey.” You rolled your eyes at him, another round of chuckles making your shoulders shake just a little.  

“Listen – ” Pale’s stomach swooped, suddenly feeling ill. He had forgotten all about that, all about everything. Were you mad? Were you upset with him? Were you –

“I don’t mind, you know?” You said quickly, reassuringly. Definitely some kinda mind reader. “I don’t mind. I’m glad you came to me, glad you knew I’d be there for you.” You pressed yourself against him, put your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you.” He said, tentatively putting an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, squishing you to him. “I know it ain’t easy…dealin’ with me sometimes. Thank you for not kickin’ me out.”

“What could I do you were already on the floor.” You shrugged. Pale groaned, but you pressed a kiss to his chin and smiled, smoothing the arm closest to him around his waist to hold on to him too. “I’m joking.”

“I know.” He said, a lump still stuck in his fuckin’ throat. He wasn’t going to cry, he kept telling himself that, but it was like he was chokin’ on words he didn’t know how to say. “But I mean it.”

“I know.” You nodded against him, and there it was again – that wonder at how you were so easy goin, so accepting. He didn’t deserve it, Pale knew that, knew he was a giant fucking mess right now and didn’t deserve your love and – “You gotta go to work today?”

You interrupted his internal spiral, helped him get a grip on himself. He sighed, let out a tension in his shoulders he didn’t know was even there. You rubbed soothing circles on his lower back where your hand was resting, sipped your coffee.

The sun started to rise.

“Yeah, fuckers got everything all god damned twisted with the ordering so I gotta go down to the docks and settle some shit.” Pale pinched his nose, didn’t want to have to fucking deal with that this early, but he knew that once the sun was in the sky he was going to have to go. Every single atom in his body screamed at him to stay with you instead.

“Want me to go with you?” You asked, and wouldn’t that be an idea?

Bringing you down to the docks so you could watch him threaten some jackasses into actually doing what the fuck he pays them to do. He almost said yes, almost blurted out that they’d leave right the fuck now – the sooner he got there the better – when he turned to look at you, and really look at you.

You were exhausted, he could see that. You had dark circles under your eyes that he could see now that light was bathing the city, deep gold that washed over everything and reflected off the rain on the streets. Your eyes were a little dull, still beautiful as ever, but dull. He didn’t want to drag you around the cold docks with him, not after all the other bullshit he put you through in the past couple hours.

“No baby, I want you to get some sleep. And I mean real fuckin’ sleep, no more of that on the floor bullshit.” Pale said, pinching at your cheek, your nose, making you smile.

“Hey I did the best I could, I couldn’t fucking lift your huge ass – ” You started, but he kissed you real quick.

“I’m jokin’.” He echoed your earlier sentiment, and you rolled your eyes, kissed him back.

“Ha ha.” You scoffed, stealing another one of his french fries. Pale wondered if he had enough time to fuck you before he had to leave.  

“You know, I don’t think I’ve liked a sunrise in a real long time.” He huffed, taking a sip of his soda. He wrinkled his nose at it, offended at the fuckin’ carbonation. “Start of another day and all that. Another day another problem. That’s how I used to think but right about now you know what I’m thinkin’?”

“What are you thinkin’?” You asked.

“I’m thinkin’ that you’re the prettiest god damned woman I’ve ever seen, all the gold all over you. Sunrise never looked so good.” He said, leaning down to kiss you again and again and again. Little presses with barely any tongue, neither of you had brushed your teeth yet.

“Do you remember anything you said last night? Or that I said?” You asked, looking him right in the eyes, those tired eyes of yours tinted with curiosity.

Pale’s stomach started to twist again, and he frowned.

“We were talking about shit? I thought you said I was out cold.” He went real still, wracking his brain for any sort of memory of the night before, anything at all. He was getting himself fucking frustrated, all he remembered was knocking into some furniture, and then blackness.

“You woke up when I was putting you back together. You didn’t say anything too crazy.” You took his hand, ran a finger over the bandage.

He watched you do it, always watching you. Were you real?

“Did you?” He asked, swallowing a hard lump in his throat. He did remember something, remembered but wasn’t sure if it was real, if it was just a dream his fucked up brain came up with. What a sick joke that would be.

“Just that I love you.” You shrugged, like it was nothing big, like it was the most breezy, natural thing to say in the whole fucking world. And that was it, wasn’t it? You loved him. It hadn’t been a dream.

You had welcomed him with open arms and fixed him up and slept next to him on the floor and you loved him.

“That is pretty crazy.” He said back, and you grinned.

He took another bite.

 He left only after you were snoozing in your fucking bed. He took the time to make sure you were wearing clean warm clothes and properly tucked in and wouldn’t go rollin’ off one way or the other. Last thing he needed was you getting’ a fucking concussion while he was gone.

The trip to the docks was uneventful, which Pale was more than grateful for. He had a short enough fuse as it was, he really didn’t need to be tempted right now. Not while his hand was healing anyway.

Surprisingly, the restaurant didn’t need that much attention that day. He knew it would pick up a lot in the evening, but the lunch rush wasn’t nothin’ too terrible. Cook didn’t show up, so he was stuck working in the kitchen, which was fine because it made the hours fly by.

Before he knew it, he was grabbing his jacket and heading out the door, was hell-bent on getting something accomplished outside the fuckin’ restaurant.

“I’m going on my lunch break,” Pale announced to everyone in the back. “If anybody needs me – don’t.”

The staff all mumbled a short acknowledgement before returning to their own work as the door swung shut behind Pale.

He lit a cigarette once he got to his car, breathed in the nicotine real slow before turning on the engine. He had one destination in mind, something had been knockin’ around his noggin for a while now, and he figured no time like the present to act on it.

Driving along he stole glances at the city around him. It was a hellhole, that was for fuckin’ sure, but maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought. Maybe it was just as much of a hellhole as Manhattan, or Jersey. But maybe that was just you talking, making him soft. He’d love to fucking take you away from here, bring you somewhere real nice, for a weekend, for a week, forever.

He turned onto 34th street and parked in the diner’s lot. He knew you weren’t working today, obviously, but he wasn’t here for you, for once.  

“Pale! Good to see you again.” The elderly man who ran the joint, Fish, greeted him as he stepped through the doors.

Pale had been to the diner a fuckton of times, and every time it seemed to be jam-packed with people. This time was no exception, and Pale was impressed to see that there were so few tables open. He was even more impressed that the old man had remembered his name, just because you’d only introduced him once before.

“Fischel right? Real good to see you too.” Pale said as warmly as he could, making his way through the crowded place to get to the milkshake bar where Fish was wiping down the counter.

“Pull up a chair wherever you’d like, someone’ll be with ya soon.” He smiled at Pale, and Pale cleared his throat, puffed on his cigarette.

“Oh, I was actually wantin’ to talk to you, but it looks pretty fuckin’ busy.” He looked around, had to press himself close to the counter to let a waitress pass. “I can come back later?” He offered, but Fish waved it away.

“You want to talk to me? Oy I’m not in any trouble am I?” He laughed, “Follow me.”

Pale walked around the counter and followed Fish to the back of the diner, down a small hallway and into an office. It was kept real tidy, surprisingly. He noticed that Fish had lots of pictures taped up on the wall, of him and his wife, his family, and even a couple of you posing with who Pale could only guess were Fish’s nieces and nephews.

“Not in trouble, I actually thought about proposin’ somethin’ to ya.” Pale said, trying his best not to knock anything over as Fish got settled in the spinny chair behind his desk.

“You have my blessing to ask her.” Fish smiled real wide, and Pale almost choked on his cigarette on the inhale.

“What?” He coughed, making Fish frown and backtrack.

“Oh, nevermind, I thought – ”

“No! I mean – I – ” Pale stumbled, no there was no fuckin’ way, well maybe not no way, but definitely no way, he couldn’t even begin to get into how that could never fucking happen – “Not no, but that’s not what I’m here about.”

Fischel regarded Pale carefully, leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk in a way that looked a little more threatening that it probably should be, coming from a man who had to be in his fuckin’ seventies.

“Before you tell me anything, I gotta say something first.” Fish said, and Pale took the hint to sit down in one of the hard chairs opposite of Fischel’s.

“Christ, am I in trouble?” Pale muttered, putting the cigarette out in the little ashtray on Fish’s desk.

“I don’t know.” Fish said, and for the first time in a long fucking time, Pale was nervous. “I’ve known (Y/N) for a long fuckin’ time. She’s like a daughter to me; she comes over for the holidays and knows my family, my wife, my brothers – everyone. And in all the time I’ve known her, she ain’t never had someone to be there for her in the way that I’m assuming you’re there for her.”

“Never?” Pale frowned, and Fish shook his head.

“Nope. She’s been doing everything on her own for as long as I can remember, for too long. And I gotta be honest, it was eating away at her. I know it was. It ain’t good to be so alone. She’s only got a couple of close friends but even then she don’t hang out with them too often. She knows everybody in the fuckin’ neighborhood and all their birthdays and all their kids’ names but at night every night she’s been by herself. That ain’t life, Pale. So to see her suddenly be so fuckin’ happy these past few months was a shock and a surprise I never knew we needed.”

“She’s happy?” Pale asked, jaw clenched. It was too good to be true, somehow, too good to be real. “Like, really happy?”

“She is. And I think it’s because she’s found someone to be close to.” He looked at Pale pointedly.

“Is this the part where you tell me you’ll kill me if I hurt her?” Pale crossed his arms, offended that Fish would even suggest a fuckin’ thing like that.

“I ain’t gonna kill you.” Fish shook his head, crossing his arms too and leaning back in his chair. “I’m gonna rip you apart piece by piece and feed you to my dogs if you hurt her.”

After a moment or two, they both broke out into a bit of a smile, and Fish held his hand out for Pale to shake.

“I like you, Fischel.” Pale smiled, somehow relieved, somehow feeling not so nervous. He really had gotten his blessing, huh?

“I like you too, don’t give me any reason not to, you know?” Fish said, relaxing his demeanor almost immediately.

“I ain’t plannin’ on it, I can promise you that.” Pale said, “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my whole fuckin’ life. I’m workin’ on something for her, something special. She deserves all the good shit in the world.”

“She does.” Fish replied with a nod of his head and a quirk of his brow, “Now go ahead and tell me whatever the hell you wanted to tell me.”

 “Can I ask you a question?” Pale asked you hours later, when the two of you were in bed after dinner.

“You just did.” You responded, your head on his chest.

He hadn’t fucked you yet, but he could feel it coming soon. For once he allowed himself to just be close to you, while the dishes soaked in the sink he shed all his clothes and climbed into bed and just pulled you to him, wanted to feel your heartbeat.

“Don’t be a brat.” He pinched your shoulderblade and you laughed.

“Sorry.” You smiled against his chest, kissed at the divot between his pecs.

“No you’re not.” He rolled his eyes, and you just hummed out a little laugh again.

“Your question?” You prompted him, making it real fuckin’ hard to concentrate when you were kissing at him like that. But then again you probably fuckin’ knew that, you menace. That’s what you were, a menace.

“What do you wanna do? Like in life.” He asked, and you thought about that for a minute.

He wanted to know why you started waitressin’, if you had ever wanted to do something else, be something else. You were smart, you were talented, you could do anything. His family was so fucking connected, not that he really talked to any of them. He would though, if you wanted to do something, anything. He’d repair a whole year of damage in a phone call if it would help you realize some fuckin’ pipe dream or something.

“Is it cliché to say that I want to be happy?” You responded, throwing him a curveball.

Was that cliché? Wasn’t that what everyone wanted, in the end? He thought about the world, thought about all the shit going on, all the death and fighting and drugs and crime – and that was in his own backyard. It was all real fuckin’ bleak, if he thought about it hard enough. But wasn’t that what everyone was chasing, somehow someway? What was the meaning of life if not to be happy?

“No, I don’t think so.” He answered, and you snuggled close to him.

“Then I want to be happy.” You said simply.

“Are you happy?” He asked.

Now that Fish had brought it up, it was all he could think about.

“Are you?” You asked back, with a raised eyebrow and a frown.

“Yeah, I think I am. Don’t really know, never really felt like this before.” He admitted, the truth coming forward a lot easier now. He wasn’t sure he would have ever been able to admit that just a couple months ago, but something about you made it real easy to let the truth out. “You know my whole life I’ve been trying to make other people happy. But I think I’m finally in a good place, or I’m startin’ to get there.”

“I’m happy.” You nodded, tracing random shapes on his chest. “I wasn’t, for a long time. But then I was okay, you know? Just working hard and doin’ my best. And then I met you, and now yeah, I’m happy.”

He looked down at you, stared at you real fuckin’ serious-like.

“You ain’t just sayin’ that? Because I don’t want you to regret this, later down the line.” He said, thinking of a certain someone, thinking of a couple people who had once said the same shit, and then fucked him over anyway. “I don’t want you to wake up one day and resent me or nothing. If you ain’t happy, you gotta tell me, gotta tell me what you want. Okay?”

“Okay Pale.” You shuffled up the bed a little, straddled his waist and brought his hand to your lips, gave it a kiss. “But I’m happy, I promise.”

“Okay.” Pale sighed, smiled as you kissed his hand.

“And for the record,” You grinned against his palm, “I don’t think you’re like a sugar daddy or anything like that. I don’t love you for your money or your connections at fancy restaurants or any of that. You could be dirt poor and you’d still take up the whole space in my heart.”

You placed his hand over your chest, and Pale breathed in time with the heartbeat there.

“But I’m not dirt poor.” Pale said, slowly sitting up too, caging you in with his arms.

“Yeah I know, hotshot. I just want you to know that whatever happens, I’m gonna be there for you as long as you want me.” You said, and Pale leaned in to kiss you, his own pulse going fuckin’ wild.

“Don’t go sayin’ shit like that, I’m gonna think you mean it.” He said real soft, his lips hovering just over yours, the ghost of a kiss.

Your eyes slipped closed, and so did his, and the two of you just reveled in the closeness for a minute or two.

“I do, I do mean it.” You said, making his stomach tighten in a good way.

“Even when I’m old and bald?” He asked, could feel the huff of your laugh even with his eyes closed.

“You’re not going to lose your hair, Pale.”

“(Y/N).” He urged, and you laughed out loud, looped your arms around his neck and carded a hand through his hair that he knew he wasn’t going to lose, even if he was starting to get a few greys every now and then.

“You could be bald and fat and wrinkly and I’m not going to love you any less.” You smiled, kissed him.

He licked into your mouth, his hands spanning your back and sliding down to your hips, pulling your ass closer as you situated yourself in his lap. He slid his hands around your front, dipped one into the waistband of your sleep-pants. You weren’t wearing underwear, and you were wet for him, your pussy warm and so fucking inviting.

You squirmed in his lap as he ran his fingers lightly over your slit, pushing in just enough to tease you.

“What if my cock don’t work?” He breathed into your mouth, you pressing your cunt down onto his hand, a silent plea.

“Then we’ll be regulars at the sex shop on fourth avenue. You ain’t gettin’ off the hook that easy.” You grinned, and Pale nodded, not that he was really worried in the first fucking place. With how hard he was for you? He was sure that would never fucking go away.

“Okay.” He licked his lips, buried his face in your neck and fingered you open nice and slow for him. He could feel you sweating, could feel you getting nice and slick for his – fully functioning – cock.

“Listen,” You said, running your hand through his hair, moaning just the littlest bit as he lightly grazed your clit. “I don’t know what your marriage was like, with her. And we don’t have to talk about it now, or ever if you don’t want to. But I’m not like her, you know? I’m not going to push you away or shut you out or anything. If you piss me off, I’m going to say something. But so far, you haven’t done anything to piss me off.”

“But I’m going to, I always do.” Pale’s hand stilled, and you shook your head.

“Then we’ll deal with it like adults. I’m willing to put in effort if you are. I want you.” You said, and he smiled then – that was the first time someone had ever said that to him.

He flipped you on your back, kissed you hard.

“You love me.” Pale said, lined up his cock and pushed in in one hard thrust.

“Yes!” You gasped out, arched underneath him, all long lines and soft supple skin. He wanted to suck a thousand hickeys onto you, wanted you all red and purple and mottled, wanted everyone to know you were his.

“Say it again you slut.” He said, pulling out and thrusting in sharply, making your nipples go rock hard. Fuck he loved watching them stiffen, he kissed down your neck, pushed you around and pulled at your tits to get them right in biting distance.

“I love you, Pale.” You moaned as his hips steadily fucked into you, pushing his cock deeper and deeper the more you relaxed and spread your legs for him. “I love you!”

He growled, you were his, fuck you were so good, so warm and wet and tight for him. He pressed a hand onto your throat, felt you swallow against him as you let your eyes pinch closed, mouth open as you moaned. He spit into it, spared a couple fingers to shove into your mouth, smear it around.

He fucked you hard, balls slapping against you, the squelch of your cunt like music to his god damned ears. He could do this forever, wanted to, he really fucking wanted to. He pressed down on your throat and gripped your jaw, held you tight in his fucking fist as his other hand hiked up your leg.  

“Again.” He demanded, baring his teeth.

Your hands flew up to his shoulders, digging and scratching into the muscle there. The sting felt amazing, felt real and grounded him, grounded him as he pushed you up the fucking bed with his thrusts. Everything was so fucking good, shit you were so wet for him, how were you so perfect?

“I love you.” You moaned, face red and splotchy, chest flushed and sweating. Pale wanted to lick up the salt on your sternum, wanted to come all over you and make you rub it around, rub it into your skin, make you his inside and out. “I’m your whore and I love you – Pale!”

You yelped a little when he pulled your hips up and changed the angle, shifting so that his cock brushed right against your gspot, rubbed at your walls deeper. He could feel that he was hitting your cervix, so deep, deep enough that he was completely buried inside you.

“Fuck – ” He was so consumed by you, all the fucking time he was just completely swallowed up by you. By your cunt, by your heart, it was all too fucking much.

He didn’t know what to do, wanted to blurt out something stupid, something too much, something that he’d have to live with – and he didn’t know if he could yet, didn’t fucking know. All he knew was your pussy was so good, the best he’d ever had, he wanted to live there, wanted to fuck you forever.

He dragged you down the bed just a little, all his thrusting had pushed you practically onto the fucking headboard and he didn’t want to knock you out or nothing. But even just pulling you down had you smiling, like this was fun, like fucking him was more than just getting an orgasm at the end of it.

“Say it again.” He demanded, and you scratched up his back, his chest.

“I’m your whore and I’m in love with you.” You said so easy, moaned high and loud, toes curling and knees drawing up around his waist.

You tossed your head to the side and your chest heaved, drooling on the fucking pillow as Pale reached down and pressed hard at your clit, making you shout out his name. Fuck he loved it when you shouted his name, when you opened your throat and just fucking yelled it. He wanted you to be loud, wanted the neighbors to hear, wanted all of fucking Queens to hear.

You clenched down hard around him, cried out his name and he came, sweat dripping down the tip of his nose and landing on your cheek. It felt like it always did when he was with you – too much and all consuming and like the whole universe or the big fucking bang all at once, all right in your cunt. He emptied his load right into your hot pussy, kept your hips tilted up so none of it would ooze out.

“Don’t fucking move, not yet.” He panted as you shimmied your hips, no doubt sore and raw and sticky all over.

“Pale.” You whined, but he kept his grip.

“Just let me – ” He didn’t even fucking know what he was doing, he just wanted to savor the moment. “Gotta keep all this come safe, you gotta keep it safe for me.” Your cunt made him delirious, it really fucking did.

You smiled, blissed the fuck out underneath him. He figured it was worth it, the edges of his mind fuzzy from you, drunk off the way you smelled, tasted.

He leaned down enough to lick at your neck, toyed with your chain with his tongue. He bit down hard on your jaw, knew he’d leave a bruise there.

“Good?” You asked, eyes already slipping closed, exhausted. He really had done a number on you, but he could feel in his bones how tired he was too.

“Every time baby.” He sighed, wincing as he pulled out finally.

You pressed yourself to him, he wrapped his arms tight around you in a vice-like grip, and fell dead asleep, wondering how the hell he had gone so long without you.

---------------------------

One chapter to go! Can we believe it?? Tagging some friends, as always, if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist, please just send me a message :)  @fullofbees @spinebarrel @dreamboatdriver @thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @aweirdlookingtree @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @adamsnackdriver @glitzescape @adamsnacc-kler @kyloxfem @fallin-for-youreyes @kylo-renne @attorneyl

[violetganache42]

VioletGanache42's Orlando Vacation - Part 1: Monday, January 13th

Kicking off this mini vacation documentary is the first official day in Florida. As you may recall, I went on a hiatus at around 7 PM because my mom, my younger brother, and I all had a 9:30 PM flight to catch. Upon arriving in Orlando, it was after midnight, so the very first thing we did after getting our luggage was heading to our hotel at Walt Disney World.

When it comes to traveling, we always stay at hotels, but this time was different. The place we stayed at during the first half of our vacation was Disney's All-Star Resort; we never went to a resort before, so this was a nice change of pace. From what we saw, there are three All-Stars Resorts: sports, movies, and music. Out of the three, this is one of the two hotels Mom booked.

Pretty cool, huh?

Unlike most hotels, each All-Star Resort has a building with a hotel desk for checking in/out and a gift shop along with multiple buildings filled with hotel rooms. For example, in All-Star Music, the hotel buildings are divided up based on different genres of music; the resort also had other amenities like the guitar-shaped pool and the Intermission Food Court, but we never got the chance to check them out because of the plans we had. I still wish we went to the pool earlier in the week because Mom and I were surprised that it had a fountain of the Three Caballeros. Oh, well. At least we had fun at the pool in the other hotel, which I'll elaborate in a future post.

After some much needed sleep, all of Monday was mostly spent exploring the shopping areas outside of the parks, including the Orlando Vineland Premium Outlets and the Mall at Millennia. It was mostly just browsing through what stores piqued our interests with the occasional spending. Nothing too major. Near the outlets was a separate Cheesecake Factory, which threw me for a loop a little because all the Cheesecake Factories I've seen were always integrated into malls; nevertheless, we still had a great lunch. (Let me tell you, they really know how to make scrambled eggs because they were delicious.) There was also a Krispy Kreme not too far from the mall and Mom just had to buy some donuts for us to snack on. lol

As fun as it was spending time in those shopping areas, the highlight of the day had to go to Disney Springs at Lake Buena Vista. And let me say this: there is so much to do there. When you're surrounded by dozens of stores, restaurants, and even entertainment, there is never a dull moment. I was left feeling so energized by everything taking place!

The first thing Mom, my younger brother, and I did upon entering the complex? Checking out World of Disney, the largest Disney store ever. All the other Disney stores we've been to literally pale in comparison to what they have in there.

When you go inside, you can see right away that there are so many sections based on specific Disney properties. Selected Pixar movies, Marvel, Star Wars (including The Mandalorian), you name it. A few walls we've seen were also adorned with a handful of animation cels from past Disney movies. Speaking of which, the counters where the registers are located have sketched drawings of various characters from those movies and there were a specific few that I had to get a photo of.

(I apologize in regards to my shadow and the lighting from the store blocking part of the drawing, but come on! It's the Three Caballeros!)

Next stop in Disney Springs was heading to dinner and where did we go? The Boathouse Boatique since we had reservations made and HOLY SHIT! It quickly became my all-time favorite seafood restaurant, with Legal Sea Food coming in at a close second! I don't know where to begin! The way they cooked the rolls were so scrumptious, ranging from the fluffy texture to the melted butter drizzled at the top. Easily some of the best restaurant rolls I ever had. And how could I forget to mention the way they cooked our meals? I ordered the fried clams and it immediately made me discover a new place to get fried clams, the other place being the Big Y near our home. The cherry on top to our dinner had to go to the fireworks going off at Magic Kingdom, which signaled the park closing for the day; because we were sitting outside of the restaurant for our meals, we got a nice view of the fireworks display. Because of how amazing our dinner was, there are times throughout the vacation where we commented about going back there again. And that is no joke; I definitely wouldn't mind having lunch or dinner again at the Boathouse Boatique some time.

The rest of the night was spent walking around Disney Springs to see what it had to offer… and I wasn't kidding about what I said on how there's always something to do. At night, some people would dance to live music that are playing. On top of that, some of the shops we poked in include a LEGO store, a Coca-Cola store, a recently opened Ron Jon's Surf Shop, Disney's Days of Christmas, an UGG store, Uniqlo, Vera Bradley, and Star Wars Galactic Outpost. There was also a fashion store called DisneyStyle and we all went in there because of what we saw in the window: this adorable Scrooge McDuck bag!

Now, I will say this: throughout our time in Walt Disney World, every store we went to did not have any DuckTales (2017) merch, but some of them did have merch from the original 1987 cartoon and that honestly was still enough to make me super happy. No joke; seeing them made me feel like I was going to have a joy overload. I definitely thank the reboot for giving me an interest in the Duckverse as a whole.

On that note, in front of the same window where we saw the bag was definitely a collection of DT87 merch; some of the merch I spotted were an assortment of T-shirts (the ones I definitely remember included one with Launchpad, another with Scrooge, and another with Huey, Dewey, and Louie), a tanktop having the same pattern as Scrooge's swimsuit, and a wallet or wristlet with the triplets on it. Out of all the merch I saw, I decided to buy this T-shirt below.

Can you imagine how overjoyed I was at the fact that I bought my first piece of DuckTales merch? Well, it certainly wouldn't be the last, which is something I'll tell you more about later on. In the meantime, I will mention that I was thinking about wearing this shirt during our time in Magic Kingdom, something Mom agreed with me on. (Seeing the T-shirt on the hanger also had us singing part of the theme song, so that was loads of fun. 😁)

Speaking of Magic Kingdom, I think this is where I'll end the first part on. I mean, I pretty much covered last Monday's events thoroughly and I was eager to share some of the best memories made on that day. Of course, like I just mentioned, this is only a chunk of those memories and there will plenty more where that came from. Stay tuned for the next part! (I'm planning to post each part daily, but who honestly knows?)

[ducklooney]

Problems in the Mallard family

Here, I got to the important part. From now on, my fanfiction will relate to a crossover between two series or between two super heroes or between two ducks living in the same world who have similar traits and personalities, similar problems, and both are parents. Yes, this story refers to it as well as the later story of the hero's fight against the villains. I know I'm not the only one who writes like this, there are others who wrote it, but no one but me (and I mean another person) has ever written fanfiction related to the Donald Duck comic book, Ducktales (above all I mean the 1987 version), Darkwing Duck and on the Quack Pack (as far as I can see no one has ever written a crossover between Darkwing Duck and the Quack Pack), so maybe I'm the first to write about this and maybe not. What I'm going to write now is from my point of view and the way I see it. If there is anything I did wrong, feel free to correct me. Before I go any further, let me just inform you about some things, so that you can understand later my story, that is, the continuation of my fanfiction story. First, I'll use Darkving Duck or Drake Mallard from the original series (1991 version), so this Drake has nothing to do with Jim Starling or Drake Mallard from the Ducktales reboot. Secondly, as far as Launchpad is concerned, there is no need for me to explain, since one knows what kind of person he is, just to emphasize that he is not too stupid, that is, he is not too idiot as some think. Third, Gosalyn and Honker will be in their teens (between 13 and 15 years old) as Webby and Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck in my previous chapters of my fanfiction story, and that I use the Webby version from the original Ducktales series, not the Ducktales reboot, similar to the Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck I use their Quack Pack version and have nothing to do with the Ducktales reboot version. Let’s understand, I have nothing against their Ducktales reboot version except for some things, but in my fanfiction story I’ll use their Quack Pack version so you understand later what I’ll write about them. So Gosalyn, Honker, Huey, Dewey and Louie are the same age, and Webby is one year or two younger, you know. I always wondered what Gosalyn and Honker would look like as teenagers, I know there is some fanart about it, and I'll probably describe them based on my vision in my fanfiction story. Fourth, they will meet again (this is their second encounter, their first encounter as children, their second encounter as teens, I think of Huey, Dewey, Louie, Webby, Gosalyn and Honker) because they have met before (based on the comic book "Dangerous Currency" when they met Scrooge McDuck and Darkwing Duck and saw their first encounter). Yes, I do not forget, Gosalyn will have similar personalities as in the original, except that she will have some traits (and personalities), typical of teens and that her trait (personalities) will be similar to those of Huey, Dewey and Louie. Fifth, Morgana Macawber in my fanfiction story will be different, in terms of her appearance, namely that she wears wavy hair, not a comb of hair (if that's on what I think it is). The rest will be the same as the old one, but Honker's brother Tank will be an older boy, older than Honker and a little more awkward, and let me just say that I'm not a fan of Honker's brother Tank because he's a really uncultured and uninteresting character, at least to me. I told Donald and Daisy in my fanfiction story earlier. And this is it for now, if there are any questions regarding this, feel free to ask me, I'm free to give you answers. And here I am to continue my story where I left off.

Chapter Four

It was four in the afternoon, at St. Canard was still hot during the month of July and was quiet in one part of the city, since there were no skyscrapers or heavy traffic in that part of the city, and there were all kinds of houses. At one of those houses, a duck entered his house tired of the hard work he had been doing for most of the day, since the morning. as soon as he entered his house he said: "I am the terror that flaps in the night...ah, I forgot the other day, and I'm not even dressed as a super hero. Oops, I have to close the door so someone won't hear me whispering," said the tired Drake Mallard, realizing that he still hadn't yet to say his famous phrase by which he is known as Darkwing Duck (his secret superhero alter ego). As soon as he closed the door, he made his way to his room, seeing his friend, and partly his partner, Launchpad McQuack, watching TV showing sales of some goods, known as the TV Shop. "Hi Drake, you're probably tired now after the hard work you've had. Here, I'm looking at selling comfortable pillows where you can have a good night's sleep. You want me to order it?" Said Launchpad Mcquack to Drake. Launchapd himself was in a Hawaiian T-shirt, a little different from Donald's shirt and in short pants, while Drake was in one business man's suit except that he was not wearing pants. "Yes, Launchpad. Free."-replied Drake, changing his mind for a moment and becoming a little dissatisfied, "Wait, just a second. Is that a pillow that shakes a little like it relaxes me? Is that an advertisement ?!" "Yes, that's the one," Launchpad replied. "Well, I certainly won't.After all, I don't believe in these silly commercials and TV shops at all. Last time I bought a pillow that makes me dream, I almost choke. Not to mention the vacuum cleaner that destroyed my forehead. Please Launchpad, change the channel quickly so I don't throw this purse in my hand right on the TV."-Drake replied dissatisfied. "Fine, I will. But you really won't buy a pillow, maybe it's just the right pillow to help you sleep." "Thank you, Launchpad, but no. I am no longer naive to believe those silly messages to whom they want to push us through their wares and steal our money from this vicious people who have to pay taxes immensely." "Hm, isn't the goal for them to make some money for themselves through their goods?" "Exactly, Launchpad. You see you're not stupid as many people talk and know how to insult," Drake said, taking off his tie and slim coat. "Just a Launchpad to get to my room to change and go back immediately. God, how hot it is for me, it's too warm here," Drake said, sweating and taking quick steps to his room to change and put on his Hawaiian shirt and return be back after one minute. "Of course, but you see the fan working so it's no problem," Launchpad replied. "Yeah, just because he cools you down, not me at all. Just drink this lemonade," Drake said, and took the lemonade that was on the table, drank it, but spit it out at the same time (sorry for the expression). "What's this lemonade? Sour and not cold at all ?!" Drake complains. "Well, lemon is sour," Launchpad replied. "I mean the juice," Drake replied. "You meant lemonade ?! And, this lemonade shouldn't be, maybe I put lemon in the water too much," Launchpad said, scratching his head a little as he thought about it. "Did you put some sugar in?" "Yes, I did not, at all. I forgot completely." - Launchpad replied, slightly embarrassed. Drake glares at him, "Launchpad! Well, he has to put some sugar in the lemonade to make it sweet. Isn't that right ?!" "Yes, of course. Although when I drank it, it wasn't sour at the time, it was sweet to me," Launchpad replied. Drake looks at him a little puzzled and starts to think that he didn't overdo it a bit and starts to slowly drink one glass of lemonade again, but sip at the sip. "Well, it doesn't look so bad. Well, it tastes good, but a little bit, but it's still sour. Of course, Launchpad thank you and sorry for the moment." "You don't have to apologize to me. It's okay and it's happening. Maybe you're a little nervous considering you're tired." "You're right Launchpad. I have to sit down and rest for a moment," Drake said, sitting in his armchair. Drake continued, "Yes, I'm exhausted, tired, nervous, and a little more worried about some things. First, my Morgana. For now, we're engaged, I don't know when we're going to get married. I'm worried I'll have to share some things." with her that I don't like at all, like the dishes she prepares. " "Don't worry Drake. She knows Morgan, what you don't like, and I don't believe you will break up for some little things. Admittedly, she loves you as a Darkwing Duck, not like Drake Mallard." "Yes, Launchpad, but I told her my secret identity so she knows. She doesn't like Morgan. When something is said against her that she loves very much, it breaks her heart a little and makes her very angry. Not to say, how does she it has spiders and bats behind it, and it also deals with magic, which many people view as some kind of witchcraft. ”Drake replied anxiously. "Did you tell Morgana about having to adjust to a life where she doesn't need to use some of her abilities to keep herself from explaining herself?" "I'm not a Launchpad. After all, if you told her that, you would be mad at me." "I don't think so. Morgana, you may be a dangerous woman, but she is very caring. She saved your life several times." "I know Launchpad as I do to her. And my Gosalyn likes it too. My Gosalyn loves Morgan as if he were his mother, and I'm sure Gosalyn would love to have his other parent as well." 

"Then the matter is resolved. Just make a deal with her, she'll understand you and the finished thing," Launchpad replied cheerfully. "Thank you Launchpad, but there's one problem," Drake replied sadly. “What ?!” Launchpad asked. "I'm moving." "Well that's not bad." "Not bad, considering I don't have to suffer those Muddlefoot except Honker certainly, but it's bad that I'll be further from my Morgan." "Why?" "Because in a month I have to move to Duckburg. I got a new job." "Duckburg ?! Well that's great, considering I lived there for a while and worked there. I'd love to go back there," Launchpad said excitedly. "Yes, to work again with that miserable rich duck who just orders ?!" "Yes, I worked for Mr McDee as a pilot for a while, and I haven't seen him in a long time. Like the boys, Webby, Donald, Duckworth, Beakly, Fenton ..." "Fenton ?! You mean Gizmoduck ?! That crazy duck ?!" "I don't know if he's a Gizmoduck and I don't know if he's crazy, but yes, I'd love to meet Fenton again. Wait, aren't you and Fenton friends ?!" "Friends ?! Nah. Maybe, we're more partners, and Fenton isn't interesting to me either." "Why ?! He really is to me." "For you yes, for me not. He is loved more by people than by me." "Don't be jealous. I think you misunderstand the point. They prefer him as a super hero rather than as a common man. As a common man and his accountant, everyone goes out except Scrooge, and his job is easier now than before," Launchpad replied. 

"Okay, maybe I misjudged Fenton. But again, I don't like Scrooge. His last encounter with him was bad for me, since he won me the bet, and he's a bastard." "He may have won you a bet because he always wins, but you beat the Beagle Boys, Magica de Spell, Negaduck and a few villains together and I see no reason to be angry." "Launchpad, I know you're praising because you worked for him, even if he paid you poorly, unlike me, but again he can't be a partner for me. Not to tell you he got you out of work." "He didn't drive me away. He sent me on a forced vacation and gave me a few years to do whatever I wanted, and I'm happy with that, because so far I've mostly been with you," Launchpad said, getting up and hugging Drake. "Good Launchpad, let me go." "All right," Launchpad said, letting go of Drake and returning to the couch. "Launchpad, it's actually a cancellation. You've been fired, not a vacation of several years. It doesn't exist," Drake said angrily. "Any dismissal, man. I was told by Mr McDee that I had a vacation and I took it. I don't see what the problem is?" "Good Launchpad. You've got a break. And if you go back to Duckburg now, what are you going to do there ?!" "Hm... He would probably go back to work with Mr McDee again as a pilot anyway." Drake looks at him angry seriously, but after a few moments he goes on, "Okay, let's just leave it at work. I leave your job to you and do what you want. But you have to know I'm moving to Duckburg and I'm serious this time." "Good. You'll probably bring both Gosalyn and Morgan with you." "Gosalyn yes, but I'm not sure about Morgan. I don't know how she would look at that." "She would definitely go with you." "I don't know, I'm not sure. I should talk to Morgan about it so I'll see how it will be. But I'm worried about Gosalyn again. Otherwise, where is she?" "In her room, she plays video games on her computer." "Oh, yeah. Wait, he's playing games on this hot day ?!" "Don't worry, she's got a fan in her room, and she has a cooler in her computer, so don't worry. It's cold in her room." "Good, Launchpad. I just hope she's okay. I'm worried she'll respond to the eviction, since she hangs out a lot with Honker, as well as some friends at school, even though she doesn't have many friends there, since she's most avoid her and mock her sadly. Poor my Gosalyn, neither guilty nor obliged to suffer for some of the things she is not at all guilty of, and I don't know how she would fit in Duckburg. " "Don't worry, Drake. I'm sure she'll fit better in Duckburg than St. Canard. And I have great friends Gosalyn would definitely hang out with." "I hope you're right Launchpad, since I don't worry for no reason. Launchpad, you know that she's no longer a sweet little girl, she's a teenager now and she's slowly changing. I'm worried she won't get into more trouble .I care enough and as an ordinary father, I also worry enough as a super hero, since she goes with me as a Quiverwing Quack and the older she gets, she gets involved in even more dangerous wreckage. I don't know, I'm afraid that because of some of her extreme actions, she won't fall into the trap she would really suffer from. As a father, I must not allow such things. " "Don't worry, while you're near her, she won't get hurt, and you have to let her be a little alone." "I know, Launchpad, but again, I worry. This world is too cruel where no one cares about anyone and I care how Gosalyn will adapt to it." "Drake, you worry too much. Relax, if you talk to her about some things, she will certainly have an understanding for you as well as you for her." "Thank you Launchpad. Maybe you're right. I worry too much. But then again, I'm going to be sorry for Honker. He's a very good boy and I'm worried about how he will accept our departure. I wish I could take him, but unfortunately I can't. " "Well, I mean, it would be sad, certainly, but since there are social networks now, it might not be that much. Gosalyn and Honker would certainly talk over social networks. You know, technology itself is changing." "I know, Launchpad, but it's not the same when you see yourself on mobile or computer or live for real." "Fine, but I know they certainly can't separate even if they're far away. Since they're best friends, I'm sure they'll find a way to get along." "I hope you're right Launchpad. I just have to say ..." Drake said, but as he wanted to continue, there was some loud noise outside. Someone broke through a fence and accidentally hit a tree. And a loud trumpet from the van was heard. "what the hell ?! Who broke this into the yard ?!" Drake asked suddenly. "Let's check it out," Launchpad replied, and the two got up and checked who it might be. They opened the door and saw that half the yard was in chaos, and in the middle of the yard was a van that hit a tree. That van was a van that was a small house considering it had beds, a kitchen and a toilet. Drake reacted to this by opening his mouth wide and watching as part of his yard was destroyed. He gets out of the van, two people who were anthro-ducks, one male with a Hawaiian shirt, and the other was a woman with very beautiful hair and a beautiful pink dress suitable for a TV presenter and beautiful pink shoes with heels. Launchpad looked at everyone with excited looks, partly in love, which was typical of Launchpad when he always saw beautiful ladies. At that moment, a duck with a Hawaiian shirt said, "Ah phooey! I got a tire pierced, and I have to take the van to a car mechanic, and I don't have enough money for it. Why it has to go wrong," Donald Duck said and hit with his foot in the van and after that Donald leaps upwards, holding both of his hands by the knee of the leg that hit the van. "Donald, are you okay?!" Daisy asked carefully. "Yes, Daisy. It's just that I have to take the van to the car mechanic, and I don't have enough money to repair it," Donald said angrily, not angry at Daisy, but at the van. "Don't worry, Donald, I'll pay for you. Just don't be mad, okay ?!" "All right, Daisy," Donald replied, calming. At that moment, he came out of the van and Louie Duck, with green shorts, a green sleeveless T-shirt and a backwards cap, said anxiously, "Uncle Donald! Aunt Daisy! Are you okay?!" "We're fine, Louie. It's okay. How are your brothers and Webby?!" Daisy said. "The brothers are ok, they just have a little head, now they will come out too, and Webby is fine too," Louie said. "Good. Thank God!" "Louie, could you please bring someone close to you who is expert in repairing the van, since..." - Donald asked Louie, but at that moment Donald glanced casually toward a house where two men were looking at them, one excited and shy eyes, others opening their mouths wide. Donald is surprised, too, and with him Daisy looking right at Drake and Launchpad. These were the views that would change their relationships.